Summer of Love
by TheWrtrInMe
Summary: Schools out and Sam and Freddie have the whole summer ahead of them. They'll be new love, old friends, road trips, and unexpected surprises. Come along for the ride as they make this a summer to remember. Second story in the 'Right as Rain' series
1. Until Then

**A/N:**

**Welcome readers to the second story in the Right as Rain Series: Summer of Love. This story is being re-posted so if you've read it before...thanks for coming back. And if this is your first time - we hope you like it!**

**The Right as Rain Series will be 4 stories long. The third installment in the series is called 'Until the World Ends' and will premier on this site on Friday 10/5.**

**October 6th is a big day in the iCarly fandom...the premier of the final season of iCarly. The day before will prove to be a big day for the iCarly fan fiction fandom. On that day, many of your favorite Seddie authors have accepted the challenge to post new stories or new chapters to existing stories. It's a MASS posting...tons of Seddie fun! Get excited!**

**If you'd like to take part in the challenge just drop me a PM and I'll add you to the list of participants. On October 5th DwynArthur and I will post chapter one of our new story 'Until the World Ends' and include all participating authors and story titles there for you to see.**

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story (most of them) aren't ours. We don't own iCarly, buttersocks or any famous webshows...**

**XXOO - TheWrtrInMe & DwynArthur**

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**Chapter 1: Until Then...**

Pandemonium. That was the only way to describe it.

The halls of Ridgeway High School were echoing with the ecstatic cries of several hundred students, celebrating their release to three months of freedom as the final bell of the year rang out. The floors were littered with the contents of their lockers as they rushed to clean them, anxious to exit the school doors and begin their summer.

All around, groups of kids huddled together, swapping gossip, making plans, and reminiscing over the school year's highlights. And two people in particular were the most cause for conversation.

Sam Puckett and Freddie Benson.

They'd all watched with thinly veiled amusement for three years as Sam and Freddie took every opportunity to torment each other. Then with open suspicion as things between the two of them began to change. But no one had been prepared for what they'd witnessed at prom last month. Sam Puckett – in a dress no less, had taken the stage and wowed them all with her rendition of Adele's 'Make You Feel My Love'. It was impressive, to put it lightly, but the fact that she'd actually dedicated it to Freddie and then kissed him – right on the lips! Right in front of everyone! Well that elevated the incident to historic levels. Yep, that was one prom no one was going to forget, or stop talking about, anytime soon.

Since then the students had watched, most with disbelief, some with curiosity and a few with outright jealousy, as Sam and Freddie became a real, live couple – complete with public displays of affection. Rip-off Rodney had organized a school wide bet on how long it would last. Most had put their money on days, a few were a bit more optimistic and put the expiration date at weeks. But no one had expected it to last this long; over a month and, from the looks of it, not likely to end anytime soon.

Sam had never been happier to be rid of a place. This school year had been exhausting, full of the kind of drama that, she hoped, only happened in high school. She'd begun the year a single girl with a wicked appetite, a penchant for violence, a beautiful best friend who she loved like a sister and a nerdy nemesis who she barely tolerated. She still had the appetite, the violent streak and the best friend, but now she was decidedly un-single and she and her nerdy nemesis spent much more time kissing than fighting. In short, Samantha Puckett was in love, with Freddie Benson no less – a fact that no one in this academic prison could seem to quit talking about.

Just as she had feared when she and Freddie were taking their first tentative steps toward being together, the students at Ridgeway had taken their new status as a couple as an invitation to make their private lives very public property. It was partly her fault, since she _had_ publicly declared her love for the nub at the most important high school social event of the year. And she _had_, in a jealous rage, attempted to claw the face off of the most popular (and gossip worthy) girl in the school. And she _was_ the co-star of a pretty popular web show, which in itself left her open to public opinion and scrutiny. But she had hoped that after a few weeks the public interest would die down. Oh how wrong she had been.

Even now, standing at her locker attempting, half-heartedly, to clean it out while Freddie (who had, of course, already finished cleaning his) stood by fiddling with his pearPhone, she could hear people making comments as they walked past.

"Aww! You guys are so totally cute together!"

She didn't even bother to turn around and see who the compliment had come from. She rolled her eyes and tossed an empty FatCake wrapper over her shoulder – hoping it hit whoever was talking squarely in the face.

"Sam…"

She glanced over at Freddie and tried to turn her face into a mask of innocence.

"What?"

"You did that on purpose."

Sam turned in time to see a girl, whose face she didn't recognize, glaring at her, one hand covering her eye as her friends, who were also glaring, helped her walk away.

"Mhyeh…she was bugging me!"

Freddie laughed and walked over to where Sam stood, hands on her hips in defiance. Say what you wanted about Sam Puckett, but life with her was never dull.

"What… you don't think we're like 'so totally cute together'?" Freddie laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Freddie" she warned, attempting in vain to pull away as he leaned in toward her lips, "people are going to think we're putting on a show."

"Let 'em watch" he said, pulling her back to him. She smiled against his lips. She wasn't the only one who had changed. Fredward Benson, he of the overprotective mother, tick baths and unfailing good manners, had developed a bit of a bad ass streak lately. Here they were, making out in plain sight, in direct violation of the school handbook, and she was the one trying to stop.

She'd never get used to this. The way it felt to have his arms around her. The way his lips felt against hers. The way he could reduce her to fits of seriously embarrassing girlishness. The way being with him, close to him like this, made her feel…things; things that were wonderful and terrifying all at once. It was like being on a roller coaster that never ended. His body was pressed flush against hers as she leaned against her locker. His right arm looped around her waist, and she was grateful for the support; after a kiss like this, her knees were more than a little weak.

The sounds of laughter and conversation around them brought her, reluctantly, back to reality. This slightly confusing tug-of-war was getting irritating. She was really trying, for Freddie's sake, not to be so weird about being together in front of these Ridgeway weirdos, but she couldn't help it. Sure, most people were pretty supportive, they oo'ed and ahh'ed and told her how lucky she was to be with Freddie who had admittedly turned into something of a hottie in the last year. But some of the comments were flat out rude. She'd heard that Rip-Off Rodney was even taking bets on how long they'd make it. At that revelation she'd immediately wished she hadn't let Freddie talk her into throwing away the butter sock. But Freddie hated the butter sock. And as good as things were between them right now, she didn't want to push her luck by beating the snot out of someone right in front of him. He preferred Mama's softer side…a side he was enjoying a bit too much at the moment.

Freddie's lips moved from hers and began to trace light kisses up her neck to the spot behind her ear. The spot he knew made her weak, and generally agreeable to extending the kissing indefinitely – no matter who was watching.

"Seriously you guys…are you ever going to give it a rest?"

Freddie groaned and Sam laughed, turning her head toward the interruption – their best friend Carly who was standing at her own locker with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face that said she was more amused than annoyed.

"Sorry Carls." Sam said, pushing Freddie off of her and attempting, in vain, to remove his hand from her waist.

"Speak for yourself!" Freddie said, standing upright and smiling at Sam wickedly, "I'm not sorry."

"Freddie" Sam laughed, as Carly rolled her eyes and began to clean out her locker. "Be nice."

Freddie took a step toward Sam, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"That's what I was trying to do…before we were…interrupted." he said, glancing over at Carly.

"Alright you two! Enough already!" Carly warned, opening her locker.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to. She was happy for her friends and she had to admit that it was nice that all her time with them wasn't spent trying to get Sam to stop inflicting physical pain on Freddie. But this new era in their friendship was providing its own issues. Like watching them make out….constantly. She'd expected some degree of public "lovey-doveyness" on their part, especially after Sam had taken such a big step at prom. But that was almost a month ago and she figured that the flame would have died down by now - at least a little.

"So did you tell her?" Freddie said, looking down at Sam.

"Tell me what?" Carly asked, immediately suspicious.

"Freddie, it's no big deal."

"What's no big deal?" Carly asked

"Baby, it's a _really_ big deal!"

"Will somebody tell me what the heck is or isn't such a big deal!"

Freddie laughed, looking over at Carly, his arms still wrapped around Sam's waist.

"Fine then, I'll tell her." he said, getting no argument from Sam. He looked over at Carly and from the smile on his face Carly knew that even if Sam was less than impressed with whatever news he was about to share – it meant a lot to him. "Sam…our Sam…" he said, drawing out the tension as Sam shook her head, laughing at him, "Got an 'A' on her history term paper!"

Carly's eyes went wide in shock.

"What!" She screamed reaching over to grab Sam's shoulder. "Oh my God Sam! That's fantastic! That's amazing! That's…"

"A miracle?" Sam cracked. "I only got it because Freddie helped."

"No," Freddie said, looking down at her, "She got it because my baby is a secret genius."

"Good answer nub, now what are you going to give your genius girlfriend to reward her for all her hard work?"

"How about this…" Freddie said, leaning down to kiss her.

_'There they go'_ Carly thought, _'attached at the face and completely forgetting that I'm here.'_ Still, she was amazed at Freddie's news. She couldn't remember a time Sam had gotten an 'A', well except that time they spent a semester playing dodgeball in gym. Sam was very talented at hitting moving targets. Carly supposed this was just another of the changes she'd have to attribute to Sam and Freddie's new relationship and find a way to get used to.

"How long do you think the honeymoon is gonna last?"

Carly turned to see their chronically awkward friend Gibby leaning on the locker beside her.

"Why don't you ask Rip-off Rodney. I hear there's some pretty good odds on the 27th of June." Sam said, turning back to her locker in frustration.

"Hey! That's the day I put in for! Sweet!" Gibby cried, raising his fist in delusional triumph.

"Gibby!" Carly shook her head at him. She knew how upset Sam was at the entire school's inability to believe that she and Freddie could really last. Admittedly, she'd had her own doubts at first, but watching them over the past few weeks, and witnessing the changes in both of them, made her think that they were both just stubborn enough to make it work.

Sam was glaring at Gibby, who was oblivious as usual, as Freddie gently rubbed her arm.

"Doesn't matter what they say baby" Freddie said – sending death rays of his own at Gibby, "I'm not going anywhere." he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

Sometimes she swore she had hit the boyfriend jackpot. She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper something in his ear that Carly and Gibby couldn't hear. And from the looks of it they didn't want to as Freddie's eyes grew wide and he began to sport a blush of his own to rival the one he'd just caused in Sam.

"Oh brother" Carly breathed, "Hey" she called to Sam and Freddie, reaching out to poke Sam in the shoulder, "Suck Face Twins…you've got an audience!"

Sam and Freddie pulled apart, Sam looking genuinely embarrassed and Freddie looking way too pleased with himself.

"So Gibby" Carly said, rolling her eyes at Sam and Freddie as she turned to him, "You got any big summer plans?"

"Heck yeah! Spencer said he's got some big project he's going to let me help him with. It's gonna be like Camp Spencer, but without the home repairs!"

"What big project?" Carly asked, peeking at Gibby from around her locker door.

"Aw crap! He said it was surprise and I wasn't supposed to tell you until he did. But let's just say that I think you and I are going to be spending a lot more time together." He raised his eyebrows in what was probably supposed to be seduction but ended up looking like he was having a face spasm. _'Great, a summer with Gibby hanging around the apartment.'_ She was going to kill Spencer!

Normally she wouldn't have worried about it. Gibby would hang out with Spencer and it wouldn't matter because she'd be spending her days hanging out with Sam. But now that Sam and Freddie were all coupled up she had a feeling that she wouldn't be seeing as much of her best friend as she was used to; a fact that gave her a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach that she'd been trying to ignore.

Last month she'd been making plans in her head for all the things they could do – her, Sam, Freddie… and Brad. But that was before Brad's father had gotten stationed in Virginia and he'd told her that his family was moving. Now she was forced to face a summer void of two constants in her life: Sam, and male companionship, unless you counted Gibby – which she definitely didn't.

She looked over at Gibby who was grinning at her in characteristic cluelessness. Gibby was a sweet guy, always optimistic, helpful and loyal to his friends. But as a love interest he was absolutely not a prospect. At least he was wearing a shirt now – almost all the time. That would make his being around the house at least a little less awkward. God, this summer was going to suck!

Sam and Freddie were barely containing their laughter at the idea of poor Carly spending her summer in an apartment full of Gibby.

"All right," Freddie said, placing a final kiss on Sam's nose, "I gotta go…"

"Take a cold shower." Carly quipped.

"Very funny Shay," he said, "I'll meet you at Carly's?" he said to Sam.

Sam nodded and smiled as Freddie walked off toward the A/V equipment room.

"Hey Freddie, I'll come help you" Gibby called, running after Freddie.

Carly looked over to her best friend. It was so good to see her like this: happy. Honestly, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Sam this happy; not even when she'd gotten her first shipment from the Bacons of the World Club. And the fact that this new happiness was because of Freddie Benson made it even more amazing.

"Why are you standing there grinning like a loon, Shay?" Sam said, throwing a handful of papers over her shoulder, not even trying to hit the garbage can.

"Oh nothing, just happy for you that's all."

"Don't get all mushy on me."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with mushiness a few minutes ago"

"That was…different." Sam said, blushing and turning back to her locker, which was still almost as messy as when she'd first started cleaning it. Messy was really not a good word; Sam's locker should probably have biohazard stickers stuck to it.

"What is that smell?" Carly wrinkled her nose as Sam pulled out a plastic bag from inside her locker, holding it carefully away from her, between two fingers. Whatever it was must be pretty bad if it was grossing even Sam out.

"You remember that ham sandwich I was eating at the lock-in?" she wrinkled her nose as she inspected the bag, "I think this might be it." She leaned toward Carly's locker, holding the offending object out to her.

"Eww, Sam! Gross! How do you lose a sandwich in your locker for three weeks?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders, threw the sandwich on the ground on top of the rest of the junk she'd discarded from her locker and went back to cleaning.

"So are you coming back to my house after we're done?" Carly asked, shutting her locker as she tossed the remains of her junior year at Ridgeway into her bag.

"Well, can Spencer swing by my house before we go to yours so I can grab some clothes? I need to change."

Yet another thing that had changed. In the pre-Sam and Freddie days Sam had usually managed to look nice, but she'd never really been bothered to put much effort into her wardrobe; some shorts, a penny tee and her high tops and she was ready to go. Now she seemed to be putting real thought into what she wore. In the last few weeks she'd noticed that Sam's clothes had gotten …cuter, and clingier and…almost girly. Subtle changes to anyone on the outside looking in probably, but Carly knew Sam better than anyone. Yep, things had changed and for now it looked like they'd changed for the better. She only hoped that they stayed that way.

"Alright, let's blow this popsicle stand!" Sam said, slamming her locker door.

"Sam, your locker is still full of…Lord even knows what. Aren't you going to clean it?"

"I'm sure they're paying someone minimum wage to make sure the lockers are cleaned out. And they aren't paying me anything so…"

"You're just gonna leave it for someone else to clean up…"

"Carlotta... you know me so well!" she wrapped her arm around Carly's shoulders as she headed out the front doors.

They sat on the front steps, waiting for Spencer; who was late, as usual.

"So, have you heard from Brad?"

Carly blushed. Just hearing that boy's name made her all squirmy. The week after prom, he'd found out that his father was being relocated to Virginia. Her dad was in the military, so she understood. She was lucky to have lived with Spencer and not spent her life moving from base to base. They'd tried to spend a lot of time together, knowing that soon he'd be gone but every date felt like marking off one more time until he'd be out of her life. Last weekend finally moved with his family to the other side of the country. Now he was officially a resident of Virginia and their interaction was limited to phone calls and video chats.

"Yeah. We video chatted last night." She smiled.

"So when are you going to see him again? Is he coming out here this summer?"

"I don't think so Sam. He said he's helping his mom set up the new house and it's really expensive to fly out here. I like him…a lot. But it sucks because he's not here anymore so I really wish I _didn't_ like him. It seems like a waste of time. Plus…have you noticed that he kind of snorts when he laughs?"

"So he's a snorty dude who lives far away. Someone once told me that it's never a bad idea to love someone."

"Who said anything about love?" She'd never said she loved Brad. Although she felt like she was in serious danger of falling for this boy; and falling hard. A supremely bad decision, considering the situation.

"You know what I mean Carls. Take it from someone who knows, if you're as into this guy as it looks like you are, you're not going to be able to stop it from happening." She rubbed Carly's shoulder, "but it does suck that he had to leave. Freddie's pretty bummed about it too."

"I don't know Sam. I like Brad, don't get me wrong, but I just don't know if a long distance relationship is smart… or if it will even work. We talked about it last night, we both think that it's probably best to just make a clean break."

"So you're giving up?"

"No, it's not giving up…it's just being realistic. I don't want him to be in Virginia and feel pressured to keep up a relationship with a girl he hardly knows who lives a million miles away. And I don't think I want to feel that pressure either. It'll be senior year. Senior year is supposed to be about fun and you can't have much fun if you're pining away because you miss your long distance boyfriend. And really, we just started going out. It's not the same as you and Freddie. You guys are together, like really together. If he had to leave, you guys could make it work."

Sam sighed and looked as if she was considering it. If this thing with Brad was ending, she was pretty sure Carly already had a plan B. Not to mention, part of her wondered exactly how it would work if Carly wasn't with someone. Since she'd been with Brad all four of them had spent time together. Carly was happy with Brad, Sam was happy with Freddie, and no one was left out. If Brad and Carly broke that was the end of their neat little foursome. And then what would happen?

"Okay then Carls…what new guy are you going to set your sights on?"

"No one." Carly said, as Sam started laughing, "What? I'm serious Sam! This whole thing with Brad has gotten me thinking. I've spent the last three years always having a guy I'm dating…or trying to date. Maybe it's time to take a break. A boy break." She looked over to Sam, trying to gauge her reaction. Sam's head was down, her long hair shielding her face.

"Sam? Did you hear me?" Carly waited for Sam to answer, and frowned as Sam's shoulders began to shake and a light laugh snuck from beneath her curls, until she was laughing so loud she had to raise her head and wipe tears from her eyes. "What is so funny!"

"You? Taking a 'boy break'?" Sam sputtered between laughs, "that's like me, taking a ham break!"

"What? I can do it!" Carly said, pursing her lips. Okay, maybe she'd never really done it before. And maybe she was a little boy crazy…okay, a lot boy crazy. But that was no reason to laugh at her!

Sam looked at her friend, who looked genuinely offended and tried hard to stop her laughing – reaching out to pat Carly's shoulder.

"No offense Carls but you have about as much chance of giving up on boys as I do at giving up on meat." She started to laugh again but thought better of it as she looked at Carly's narrowed eyes. "Okay, sorry. But seriously … what's the point?"

Sam was genuinely curious. Carly being boy crazy was something she'd just come to accept. She was the girliest girl Sam knew and boys generally tripped over themselves trying to be with her, so it made sense that anyone with that much opportunity would be more than happy to take advantage of it. And Sam didn't really see anything wrong with that. Carly wasn't like some of the girls in their school. Carly had liked a lot of guys, and lots of guys liked Carly but it wasn't like she was, walking around screwing every guy who paid her any attention. Carly was classy, and most of the guys she'd been with had treated her well. Other than Steven, none of them had given Sam cause to beat them.

"I don't know Sam. It's just that when Brad told me he was moving I was upset but part of me was just…okay with it. And I started thinking about all the reasons I was okay with it…like all the things about Brad I didn't like. And after a while I realized – every single guy I've dated I get so crazy about them in the beginning; thinking about how perfect they are, and how perfect we are together, but after a while I start finding reasons that we won't work. No matter how much I like them in the beginning the list of things I don't like eventually makes me lose interest. They don't call when they say they will"

"Or they call too much" Sam said

"They don't talk"

"They talk too much"

"They don't want to kiss me"

"_ALL_ they want to do is kiss you"

"They don't recycle"

"They collect tiny plush toys"

"They cheat with random girls from California" they said in unison.

"So you see my point?" Carly asked.

"Honestly Carls? No, I mean you've dated some losers – everyone has dated some losers, that's not a reason to give up on the whole species." Sam laughed.

"I'm not 'giving up' Sam! I'm taking a break. Okay, here's what it is. The way I see it, there's never been a guy that I haven't been able to find a reason to break it off with. Some of the reasons were understandable. Steven was a lying cheating douchebag. But sometimes there wasn't really a good reason. It's like I date these guys and make up some fairytale in my head where we run off into the sunset and live happily ever after. And then when it doesn't live up to that fairytale I break it off." She paused, "I've seen the way you and Freddie look at each other. I've seen the way you both have changed and how you've managed to get past so many problems just to be together. And I just think, that's the kind of relationship I want. A real one. Where I understand that the other person isn't perfect – and they understand I'm not perfect either, but we love each other anyway. I want what you have."

Sam shook her head. She understood where Carly was coming from. And she'd had more than one girl in the last month walk up to her and say the same thing; they wanted what she and Freddie had. But she wondered if they would all feel that way if they knew how hard she and Freddie had fought to have what they had. Being with him was wonderful, but it hadn't been all sunshine and roses getting to this point. People thought they had a perfect, sweet love story. But if there was anything Sam had learned since being with Freddie it was that no relationship was perfect. You just had to make sure that at the end of the day you could look at the person you were with and believe they were worth whatever load of crap you had to plow through to make it work.

"There are never guarantees Carly. Ever. I mean, I guess I get what you're doing and why you're doing it but even after your little testosterone hiatus it won't change the fact that you can't really guarantee it will work with anyone. So you just have to enjoy what you have for as long as you have it."

"Wow Sam, that was surprisingly…wise" Carly laughed, "When did you go all 'zen' on me?"

"Shut it Shay!" Sam warned, "All I'm saying is that all this drama lately has made me realize that some things are just outside of your control. Like this thing with Brad…he's moving across the country – totally out of your control."

"I hate not being in control. But you're partly right. No matter who I'm with, being apart is something I might have to deal with anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we start senior year soon, and after that college and who knows where we'll all end up."

They sat in silence, each thinking separate thoughts about Carly's comment. Sam looked down at her hands, picking at her nails. It wasn't that she'd never thought about it, all of them being separated. But it was definitely a thought she tried to keep at bay whenever it did come up. Senior year. College. Everyone leaving. All of them were terrifying thoughts and Sam's general rule on terrifying thoughts was that it was best to try not to think them. But who was she kidding, no matter how she avoided the thought, the facts were still there. They were hurtling toward adulthood like a speeding train with no brakes and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Freddie was a genius, something that alternately frustrated her and made her overflow with pride. He could get into college anywhere he wanted, probably with a scholarship. And while she knew his mother was campaigning tirelessly for him to consider staying in Washington, a fact that made her just a little bit fond of Crazy, there was no guarantee he'd actually stay. He might leave, and that thought scared her in a way she couldn't even verbalize.

It was a done deal at this point. The nub held her heart. She loved him, more than she'd admit out loud and the longer she was with him the stronger it got until, at this point, the idea of a regular daily life without him in it was almost inconceivable. And while she wanted the best for him, she selfishly hoped for, and to some extent counted on, him to stick around. It was bad enough to think that she'd very likely be forced to say goodbye to Carly, who she knew had her heart set on some fancy schmancy school out east, but saying goodbye to Freddie was something she wasn't prepared for; she didn't think she ever would be.

"Well, that's all the more reason for us to make this summer epic. You never know what's going to happen, so we might as well make some kick ass memories in the meantime." She looked over at Carly and smiled, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

"Oh boy, you saying epic scares me."

"Why Carly, whatever do you mean!" Sam stared at Carly open mouthed with mock offense.

"Sam! Epic for you usually involves the breaking of laws…or limbs! The last time you did something epic you wound up in juvie and a diplomat wound up with hot beans in very sensitive places!" Carly laughed. Say what you would, but there was never a dull moment with Sam.

The girls stood as Spencer pulled up to the curb and, unnecessarily, honked his horn. Sam hooked her arm into Carly's and pulled her toward the car.

"Just wait Carls…this summer really is going to be epic. And I promise, no broken limbs… or laws. Well, no big laws anyway!"

And she was determined to keep her word. She didn't know how, but she was going to make this summer so amazing that no matter what came after it they'd always be able to look back at it as the very best of their times together.

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**Review? Yeah...you know you want to.**


	2. Up All Night - Part 1

**Chapter 2: Up All Night - Part 1**

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"I don't want to go Carly!" Sam pulled a pillow over her head as she fell back onto Carly's bed, which was currently covered with discarded dresses, skirts and shirts as Carly tried to find something to wear.

"Come on Sam! It'll be fun. The first party of the summer and it's at Wendy's house! You know how amazing her house is. She's got a pool, and a hot tub and I hear she even got a D.J.!"

"I don't even _like_ Wendy! She's always staring at Freddie's biceps…she's almost as bad as Patrice!"

"There are going to be so many kids there you probably won't even have to see her. Come on Sam," She begged, sitting down beside Sam on the bed and pulling the pillow from her face. She looked down into the frowning face of her best friend and gave her the best puppy dog eye-pout she could muster. "For me?"

"Geesh Carls…that only works on dudes." Sam laughed, knowing full well that it worked on everyone and was working on her too. As much as she didn't want to go, she knew that in two hours she'd be standing in Carly's living room ready to go to the party. Carly meant a lot to her and she didn't tell her no often. "Alright…but I'm picking my own outfit. And if Wendy or Patrice starts hitting on Freddie I cannot be held responsible for my actions!" She groaned, sitting up and running her hands through her curls. "And I'm wearing my hair like this. There's no time to straighten it."

"Yay!" Carly squealed, heading for her closet to toss out some clothing options for Sam. In the last year Sam's ability to wear Carly's clothes had lessened. Partly due to the difference in their taste, but mostly due to the fact that the puberty fairy had left Sam with a chest that defiantly refused to fit into Carly's shirts.

"How about this?" Carly asked, holding up a short strapless black sundress.

"Carly, that's even tight on you! My boobs would be falling out of it."

Carly went back into her closet, taking out any and everything she thought might appeal to Sam. Sam had a reason to reject them all. Too tight, too frilly, too low cut, too high cut, too…Carly.

"Okay Sam, you've said no to like everything I've pulled out. Unless you want to go to the party in your underwear you're going to have to make decision!"

"Or I could just not go." Sam offered, only half joking.

"Sam!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your undies in a wad" She bounced from the bed and joined Carly as her closet, looking through the few choices that were left. Finally she pulled, from the back of Carly's closet, a white sundress on a hanger. "What about this?"

The dress was a simple cotton tank dress with spaghetti straps. Thin stripes of glittery silver crossed it on an angle and the straps twisted to form a racer back. After her last growth spurt Carly couldn't wear it for anything but a shirt, but on Sam it would work – short, but not disgustingly so.

"Perfect! And I even have shoes for it…cute strappy ones!"

"No way Carly! I am not going in there with heels on. Plain white flip flops." She rolled her eyes as Carly pouted, her hands holding a pair of silver strappy heels. "You should just be happy I'm going at all! I could be spending the night hanging out with Freddie." Her eyes got a far off look, "watching movies…in the dark…alone…"

"I get the point Sam!" she laughed as she put the shoes back, digging around for white flip flops – silently hoping she wouldn't find them. "This is so weird."

"What is?"

"This whole, you and Freddie playing kissy face. I mean… how did you go from fighting to making out?"

"I don't know," Sam said, "I can't really explain it to you. It's like, once I took the time to really get to know him it just sort of… fit. Like this is where I was supposed to be all along. Remember how we used to watch all those sappy chick flicks?"

"They weren't sappy!" Carly said defensively, "They were romantic!"

"Sappy, romantic, whatever. But remember how you used to go on and on about how when you found the one you'd just know?"

"Yes, and you told me I was being a girl and to shut up and pass the popcorn."

"Right! Well, with Freddie that's what it feels like. Like… I just know."

Carly looked over at her friend and tried her hardest not to let out a squeal. Sam hated squealing. But it was just too sweet. In all the time she'd known Sam she'd never seen this side of her. She'd seen the guys Sam dated – most of them scary enough or creepy enough to send chills up Carly's spine – and Sam had really seemed to be into a few of them but this was different. Sam wasn't an "open up about her feelings" sort of girl. She shared more with Carly than she did with anyone and still, she'd never said anything like this about anyone else.

"There you go grinning at me like a loon again!" Sam laughed, looking at the grin on Carly's face. "Stop it! You're freaking me out!"

"I'm just so happy for you!" she risked Sam's wrath and ran over to hug her friend. "This is the weirdest most awkward situation ever, but I'm so happy for you and Freddie. The weirdness will go away at some point" she hoped.

"Who are we kidding? When has anything with the three of us _not_ been weird!" Sam broke from Carly's hug and grabbed the white dress off the bed, "Now come on, let's get ready for this party before I change my mind!"

* * *

Freddie stood looking into his bathroom mirror, hoping that the next text from Carly would say that Sam was still determined not to go to this party.

_Carly: She's in! Meet us at my house at 10._

Great, Sam had caved.

When Carly first mentioned the party he and Sam had both decided they weren't going. Instead, they planned to either catch a late show at the O'Haloran or watch movies at his house since his mother was at work until eight o'clock tomorrow morning. He'd stopped on the way home from school and picked up snacks that he knew Sam would like and looked forward to spending a night forgetting the rest of the world existed as he spent an entire evening with his girlfriend. Girlfriend. He loved saying that. _Sam Puckett was his girlfriend._ He wanted to take out a billboard for all of Seattle to see. But she'd kill him.

So when he'd gotten a text from Sam saying that Carly was trying to talk her into going he'd just started getting ready. He knew that in the last couple of weeks, especially since they found out Brad was moving away, Sam had started to feel bad about Carly being alone while he and Sam were together. He felt bad too, enough so to agree to start spending more time as the threesome they used to be. But no matter how they tried to ignore it, things were different now. He still loved his time with Carly and the three of them always had fun together but there always came a point in the evening where he'd look at Sam and wish they were alone. Maybe it was selfishness. Maybe it was hormones. But whatever it was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. He wanted her to himself. And as annoying as it could sometimes be to hear Carly prattle on about whatever guy she was currently into, Freddie wished she had a guy like that now, someone to distract her, fill up her time. It would mean that he'd be forced into double dates – which were usually awkward. But it would also mean that Sam could stop feeling bad, and he could stop feeling bad that Sam was feeling bad.

Sometimes he didn't think Sam understood that, on some level, being around Carly, when he had these feelings for Sam, was a bit awkward. After all, he'd spent most of his adolescence convinced that Carly was the girl for him. And while he now knew he couldn't have been farther from the truth (Sam was it for him), it was still just a little weird to kiss Sam, open his eyes and see Carly standing there looking at them. But it was summer vacation now. He had all the time in the world to spend with Sam, and he was determined to make the most of it. He was going to come up with something… something special, that would be just them. Sam had said this summer was going to be epic. He was determined to make sure that happened – he just wasn't sure how yet.

9:45. He had fifteen minutes to get dressed and meet the girls across the hall. He knew Sam couldn't care less if he was late, but if he came in one minute past ten Carly would have a conniption – even if he was the one driving them to the party. So much for gratitude.

He ran gel through his hair, sprayed on some cologne and pulled a black button up shirt from a hanger in the closet. He looked down at his dark washed jeans and black Chucks and deemed himself ready to party. He could only hope the party would be really lame and they would all come home early. If he was lucky, they'd be home early enough for him and Sam to catch the late show at the O'Haloran.

He grabbed his wallet and keys and with a sigh, shut the door of his apartment behind him. He didn't bother to knock on Carly's door, knowing that it'd be open.

"What's up party people" he called out into the empty living room. He heard a door open upstairs.

"We'll be down in a minute" he heard Carly call from her bedroom before slamming the door.

Freddie took a seat on the sofa, waiting for the girls and wishing for a plausible excuse to skip the evening's festivities. Hearing the sound of footsteps behind him he turned toward the sound.

"Hey Freddie!" Carly said, bouncing down the stairs and walking toward him. "Ready to party?"

"No, not really." He answered honestly.

"That's exactly what your girlfriend said." Carly called over her shoulder as she entered the kitchen to pour some juice. "But wait until you see her."

"See who?" Freddie heard and then he didn't see anything else, or hear anything else as he watched Sam descend the stairs. She looked…he didn't really have words. She always looked amazing and tonight was no exception. She smiled at him as she walked slowly down the steps toward him. Her dress was white with what looked like tiny silver ribbons crossing it. It fell well above her knees and for someone as short as she was, tonight her legs looked about five miles long. The straps were so thin he wondered if they were really holding anything up and the front, good Lord, the front dipped into a V drawing all his attention to….

"My eyes are up here Benson!" she said, leaning against the stair railing, smiling at him.

"Sam, baby you look… amazing!"

"Well, if I look so amazing why are your lips over there yappin' instead of over here kissin'?"

Freddie needed no further prompting and crossed the space between them in three steps, sweeping Sam into his arms, pressing his lips to hers. If going to this party meant he got to look at her in this dress for a few hours, he supposed it was worth it.

"So you like the dress" she whispered, breaking the kiss.

"Like it? I love it! You look beautiful." He said into her neck, pulling away to look at her.

"You're looking pretty hot yourself. I might have to go round two on Patrice if she's there."

"Sam!" Carly said, walking toward the two of them, grabbing her keys from the kitchen counter, "No fighting! You promised!"

Sam stuck out her tongue at Carly, grabbing Freddie's hand.

"I'll be nice. But if she touches him – it's game on! Now let's go if we're goin'!" She said, pulling Freddie toward the door.

"Wait a minute" Carly said, in a voice that told them they were in for a 'Carly lecture', "Let's lay down some rules."

"Seriously Carly? Rules? Is the point of parties for their not to be any rules?"

Carly shot a warning glare toward Sam, who rolled her eyes and flopped down on the sofa, pulling Freddie with her.

"Okay, now this party is supposed to be pretty wild and I want to make sure we all get home safe so… no drinking, no fighting, no leaving the party without each other." She continued as Sam and Freddie tried to keep from laughing in her face, "no table dancing, no going into rooms with strangers…."

"Does Freddie count as a stranger?" Sam said, winking at Freddie.

"Sam! No going into rooms with strangers… or Freddie. And last but not least…No leaving Carly alone with Gibby!"

"What?" Sam and Freddie said in unison.

"I'm serious you guys! Lately he's always…there and he keeps giving me these looks like he's… I don't know, waiting to make a move. I do not want him making any moves!" Carly looked genuinely disturbed at the idea, so much so that Sam and Freddie had no choice but to take her seriously and agree to keep her as Gibby-free as they could.

"Is that all?" Freddie asked, "If you go on for much longer we're going to miss the party altogether." _Which is just fine with me,_ he thought.

"Okay – let's go party!" Carly said, grabbing her purse and heading out the door in front of Sam and Freddie.

* * *

If you made a list of all the words commonly used to describe Freddie Benson, party animal would not be among them. Freddie was not a party fan. Rooms full of people you didn't know, music so loud you couldn't hear yourself think. This party was particularly odious. He'd come under duress, preferring to stay in his apartment curled up with his girlfriend watching movies. Or, more accurately, watching her while she watched movies. He loved looking at that girl.

Samantha Puckett was one of those girls, the kind that guys always felt comfortable hanging out with because she was just like one of them. And while the girls around her grew into frilly, giggling testaments to femininity, Sam had remained the same; not particularly bothered with how she looked, comfortable getting dirty while her female counterparts stuck to the sidelines. And then, seemingly overnight, she'd turned into…a certifiable hottie. She wasn't hot in the way that most girls in his school were. She didn't wear a ton of makeup, shirts cut low and skirts cut high, but even in her regular everyday clothes something about her smoldered. Her eyes – the bluest he'd ever seen – were always sparkling, like she was up to something (which she usually was), her lips were perfectly shaped and he was proud to be the lucky son of a gun whose pleasure it was to know exactly how soft they were. And her body – he tried not to think about it too much, being a gentleman and all but he'd be blind not to notice that the girl had curves that could stop traffic.

And that's exactly what they were doing right now.

Freddie stared across the room to the spot where Carly and Sam stood, laughing over something one of them had said. He wondered if she knew what a stir she was causing in the male contingent at this party; and how furious that was making most of the girls. Probably not. One of the things he loved the most about Sam was her ability to make it look like nothing bothered her. He'd been with her long enough now to know that she did care about what people thought – a lot, but they'd never know it. Especially now as she grabbed Carly's hand and pulled her toward the makeshift dance floor that had been created in the center of the large room.

Underneath the dimmed lights, the thin silver stripes in her white dress seemed to twinkle as she twirled and spun, hands raised above her head. Her eyes were closed and he saw her lips moving as she sang along with the music. He didn't recognize the song, but he'd discovered over the last couple of weeks that music was something of a passion for Sam. There were few songs she didn't seem to know. This one must be a favorite; she threw her head back as she sang and her nose scrunched up in that way he loved. God she was beautiful.

His eyes met Carly's who raised her eyebrows in a smirk and tapped Sam on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear. With Sam's back to him (he was sure that view would pop up in his dreams somewhere tonight), he wasn't able to see her reaction to whatever Carly had said. Carly pointed over Sam's shoulder to where Freddie stood. Last year if they'd been at this same party he'd have died of embarrassment if Carly caught him staring at Sam but now he had no shame – she was his, and he'd stare at her all he darn well pleased! Sam turned abruptly and met his eyes. Her eyes narrowed and she raised her finger to call him to her. He smiled and pushed himself up from the wall he'd been leaning against, preparing to make his way over to her. He stopped dead in his tracks as his view of Sam became obscured by a very tall wall of muscle.

Standing in front of Sam, too close for Freddie's taste, was a boy he recognized from the halls of Ridgeway. He'd already graduated, one of those losers who hung around high school parties hoping to scoop up some unsuspecting high school girl- preferably a drunk one. Freddie thought his name was Ryan…or Riley…or some other douchebag name he couldn't call to memory. At this moment, Mr. Douche was walking even closer to Sam, reaching his arm out to wrap around her waist, attempting to match the former movement of her hips with his own. Carly's eyes were wide as she grabbled Sam's arm and tried to pull her backward. Sam was a strong girl, and Freddie had no doubt that she could handle the situation on her own but something in him was begging to lash out and beat this guy to a pulp.

If he were honest, he'd have to say that he knew he was the jealous type. It wasn't something he was proud of and until he'd started dating Sam there hadn't been many instances where he'd had to worry about that side of him coming to the surface. But dating Sam was changing that. Before they'd dated he'd heard guys make comments about Sam from time to time; he usually tuned them out. But now it seemed like everywhere they went he came face to face with some idiot who was undressing his girl with their eyes. And he'd walked up on more than one conversation about Sam – Sam's face, Sam's smile… Sam's body. It made his blood run hot but he'd prided himself on his ability to press those feelings down. After all, she was his – he didn't have anything to worry about right?

_'Wrong'_ his head was screaming at him. Of course you have something to worry about. This guy was tall with muscles rippling everywhere and to top it all off he was currently putting his hands all over Sam. His Sam! He felt his pulse beating in his temple and his fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides but this was a novel situation for him, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Run in and defend Sam? Stand here and let her defend herself? Only one answer felt right.

Freddie crossed the space between them and tapped the guy's shoulder, his anger coming in waves that made it hard to breathe properly. He felt like a caveman.

She mine. You douche.

As he approached, he could hear Sam's voice.

"Come on Ryan. Not cool, dude."

"What, Sammy? You don't have time to say hello to an old friend? Come on…just one dance for old times' sake." He said it with finality, as if Sam had no choice in the matter.

Sam glanced around the guy to find Freddie, her eyes pleading with him to calm down. She pushed against his chest and Freddie heard her say "no thanks". But Mr. Douche must have been stronger than she expected and as she pulled away his arm wrapped even more tightly around her waist, crushing her to his chest.

Ryan, or Riley or whoever in the hell he was turned to peer down at Freddie, never loosening his grip on Sam's waist, a look of annoyance played out over his face.

"I think she told you no thanks. Now let go of her and go find someone else to annoy or we're going to have problems." Freddie said, tapping him on his immense shoulder – good Lord, it felt like tapping on granite. Freddie swallowed and steeled himself for a reaction. The words had come out of his mouth before he'd made any conscious decision to say them. And once they were out there was no turning back, although now that he was looking up at this guy, who had him by 4 inches and 50 pounds easily, he only hoped that someone here had a first aid kit.

"Excuse me? Who the hell are you?" The guy looked more amused than intimidated as he turned his attention completely to the short nerdy guy in front of him.

"I'm her boyfriend. And I'm not going to tell you again…get your hands off of her. Now!" Freddie wasn't sure where this courage had come from. He knew for certain that in hand to hand combat there was likely no way he'd ever be able to beat this guy. But the idea of another guy touching and holding her made him more furious than he'd ever been and it was worth the risk to life and limb to make it stop. Sam had spent her whole life defending herself; he wanted a chance to show her that she wasn't by herself, that he'd do whatever it took to defend her, to keep her safe.

"Ryan," Sam said, stepping in between him and Freddie, her hands outstretched, "just go." She moved to stand beside Freddie, softly placing her hand in his.

"Wait a minute" Ryan said, more than a hint of amusement in your voice. "This chump is the boyfriend everyone's talking about? You're really dating this dude?" He laughed out loud and Freddie heard murmurs in the crowd that was quickly growing around them. "What is he, like a buck-oh-five? Soaking wet? You can't be serious Sammy."

Sammy? Who the hell was this dude to call her Sammy? Freddie thought. _He_ didn't even call her Sammy! So he knew her, and she knew him and Freddie hadn't known anything about it.

Freddie resisted the urge to look at Sam then. If he looked at her, he wasn't sure he'd like what he saw in her eyes and just in case this guy decided to beat him to a pulp he couldn't really afford to be distracted. Without hesitation, he pushed Sam behind him, trying to give off an air of confidence he definitely did not feel. Here he was preparing to fight some dude who may or may not have a romantic connection to his girlfriend. This was so screwed up.

"Yeah, she's really dating me. Is that going to be a problem?" Where in the world was all of this coming from? Freddie was a lover, not a fighter, but over the years with Sam, he'd learned that in an altercation like this the worst thing you could do was show fear. Even if it was so strong it made you want to wet your pants.

The crowd got quiet, waiting to see what the answer would be. What was an end-of-school year party without a fight? They'd all figured that there would be a least one, but a fight between a 6 foot wall of muscle and Freddie Benson – over Sam Puckett no less? This was going to be the talk of the summer.

Ryan stood back with his arms crossed over his chest, now flanked on both sides by two cronies Freddie hadn't even noticed when they arrived. He seemed to consider Freddie for a minute, a smirk on his face. Freddie doubted he was afraid, or intimidated, so he couldn't explain why he was choosing to think first and punch later, but he braced himself for the hit he was sure was coming. He rubbed his thumb against the back of Sam's hand before releasing it, bringing his hands into fists at his sides. Ryan looked over Freddie's shoulder, shook his head before addressing Freddie.

"Well, I guess I can't hit you just because she's got bad taste and you've got a big mouth." He stared again over Freddie's shoulder to where Sam stood, "No sweat Puckett, I'm not gonna hurt your little boyfriend. I'm still on probation anyway". With that, he turned and walked off with his friends, the crowd parting to let them through.

A collective murmur of disappointment swept through the crowd as someone started the music back up and the crowd went back to dancing, drinking and waiting for something exciting to happen.

Freddie wasn't sure what had just happened but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn't readily identify. Disappointment? No, he couldn't say he was exactly sad to have avoided having his face re-arranged. Anger? Sure, he wasn't happy to know that Sam and that guy had some sort of history, but up until four months ago, Sam's and Freddie's lives had been separate except for iCarly. He was sure Sam had a lot of friends that Freddie didn't know about. So what was it then. He turned around and peered down into Sam's face. Her blue eyes were clouded as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"It's okay baby," she whispered.

And then he knew the feeling. Shame. He felt ashamed. The way Sam had quietly tried to get Ryan to let her go, way she'd stepped in between them to stop things before they started. Even the way that Ryan had glanced over Freddie's shoulder at Sam before deciding to back off. For all of Freddie's tough talk, the only reason he wasn't a bloody pulp on the ground right now wasn't because he was brave, or tough or strong. It was because of Sam. Because she was all the things he wasn't. She'd protected them both, because she didn't think he could protect her…or himself.

He felt Sam tense up in his arms and realized that as she stood with her arms around his neck, his were still glued to his sides, drawn in fists.

"Baby?" Sam said, pulling back to stare up into his face, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…Sammy" he spit out the last of his sentence. He knew it was wrong to feel this way, wrong to talk to Sam like this but he couldn't seem to help it. He felt so small and powerless, like everyone in this room was pointing at him and saying "look, it's the dude who couldn't defend his girlfriend". And he couldn't even be mad, because he wasn't so sure they were wrong. And she'd taken away his chance to find out.

"Whoa…what's with the funky attitude?" She removed her hands from his neck and stood in front of him, genuinely confused.

"Oh, I don't know Sam. Maybe you should ask your big muscly friend?" He turned away from her, walking back to the wall he'd been standing against before this all started.

"Freddie, wait!" she said, following him. "I don't understand."

"Who was that dude Sam? Why the hell was he calling you Sammy? And why did he have his hands all over you?"

"His name's Ryan. I met him in juvie like three years ago."

"What was he like..your boyfriend or something?"

"Or something I guess…it doesn't matter Freddie. I'm with you so what's the problem?"

"Him pawing you like that is the problem!"

"I told him to stop, he stopped, its over! So why are you acting like this?"

"You told him to stop. After I was already handling it!"

"Handling it! Freddie! You have no idea what that guy is capable of! You didn't want to fight him, trust me."

"Trust you… right, I should trust you, when you so obviously don't trust me!"

"Freddie, this is ridiculous! What are you talking about, of course I trust you!"

"No Sam, no you don't. You don't trust me with the most important thing… taking care of you!"

"Freddie...There's no way I could have stood by and watched the two of you fight. It wasn't a big deal!"

"It was to me Sam! Don't you get it! I want to take care of you. I want to be the person who defends you, who makes sure you're safe. And you took that chance away from me. Like…like you didn't think I could handle it."

"Freddie…" she reached her hand out to touch his cheek.

"I'm sorry Sam… I just… I need some air." He moved her hand from his face and walked away, not sure he could remain standing there without saying something he'd regret. He heard Sam calling him as he walked away. He knew this was not the way to handle the situation but right now, all he could think about was getting outside, hoping the fresh air would help him to breathe despite the feelings that seemed to be suffocating him.

He wandered out of the patio door, walking past a group of kids who appeared to be tossing each other into the pool. A set of cobblestone steps descended from the pool area, letting out into a garden that appeared at the moment to be deserted. He knew that Wendy's parents were rich but he hadn't realized until tonight just how loaded they were. Their house rivaled the one they'd been in for that party out in L.A. He took a seat in one of the lounge chairs that bordered a koi pond, breathing deep as he stared up at the Seattle sky.

What was wrong with him? It was a beautiful night and he was here in this phenomenal house with his girlfriend – a girlfriend he very obviously didn't deserve at this point. He was supposed to be having a good time. Why wasn't he?

Super Douche. That's why he wasn't having a good time. That guy with his tough talk and his giant muscles, feeling all over Freddie's girlfriend. And not just him. Super Douche may have made a move on Sam but if he hadn't, there was a house full of guys who'd have stood in line to do the same thing. How was he supposed to have a good time when he knew that half the male population was drooling over his girlfriend. His rational mind told him to drop it, that Sam wasn't paying attention to any of those guys, that for some crazy reason that Freddie couldn't understand she wanted him. But how long would that last? Freddie was acutely aware of how different he was from the other guys Sam had dated. She'd dated guys who had all the things he didn't. They were tough and cool and …tall. And he was just…him; nerdy, smart, well-mannered him. He tried to call to mind one reason why Sam would pick him over them. One reason he shouldn't be worried. He came up with nothing. If he were Sam he wasn't so sure he'd pick him.

He understood now, how scared Sam had been about him leaving, because he had to admit that he sometimes felt the same way. Maybe it was for different reasons, but at the end of the day he had to admit that he wasn't so sure that he was enough to make Sam stick around; and the thought of being without her was unbearable. He'd told her a million times in a million different ways just how much she meant to him. He told her how beautiful she was, how much he admired her, how crazy he was about her. And usually she responded in kind, but he couldn't for the life of him remember an instance where she'd just poured her heart out to him. Other than prom, which had almost floored him with shock, he didn't think he'd had a moment where he heart was sure. Where he looked into her eyes and knew for sure that she loved him just as much as he loved her; where he was sure she wasn't going anywhere.

He supposed that was just Sam, she wasn't exactly open with her feelings for anything beyond food. But sometimes, like right now, he wished he knew how to open her up. He wished he knew beyond a shadow of any doubt how she felt.

He sighed and sat up, looking out over the koi pond. The sound of footsteps broke him for his thoughts and he looked toward the house to see a group of guys walking toward him.

Super Douche. Yippty-freakin'-do.

"Benson! Look guys, it's our good friend Freddie!" Ryan looked toward the six or seven guys walking with him, laughing as he pointed to Freddie. "What you doin' out here all by yourself Freddie boy? Lost that hot girlfriend of yours already?"

Freddie stood up to leave, he was in no shape to deal with this right now. He just wanted to find Carly, Gibby and Sam, get the hell out of here and try to forget this night ever happened.

"Hey wait a minute Fred-o" Ryan grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past. "Don't leave on our account, we were just getting ready to play a little game and thought we'd ask you to join us. That is unless you need to check with your mommy…I mean girlfriend first?" He laughed but as Freddie looked into his eyes he could see the challenge there. A challenge he was running on too much testosterone to turn down.

"What kind of game" Freddie said, jerking his arm away.

"Just a little 'Six Cup'" he said, holding up a stack of red cups in one hand a single die in the other. Behind him a short, stocky guy with dark hair held up a case of beer. "You in?"

Freddie had no idea what 'Six Cup' was but he'd heard horror stories about drinking games and he didn't think he'd come out well playing anything against these guys. He looked back toward the house, wondering where Sam was. Sam. She'd probably played this game before. Maybe with Ryan. The thought erased the small amount of calm he'd managed to achieve in his moments alone out here. Now the anger and jealously that had sent him running from Sam earlier had returned with a vengeance.

"Unless you need to go check with Sammy first." Ryan and his friends laughed, "I've never known her to go for the sort of guy who has to ask permission to do anything." He quipped, his mouth spread in a smile but his eyes dark and challenging.

Freddie cast one last look toward the house. He had that feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one you get right before you make a decision that you know isn't the right one. The one where you know your rushing head first into a mistake, and you know you're not going to stop. He looked at Ryan with narrowed eyes, hoping to disguise his fear with false bravado.

"Let's do it."

* * *

**A/N: Uh Oh...looks like our favorite nub might be in trouble...**


	3. Up All Night - Part 2

**Chapter 3: Up All Night - Part 2**

* * *

Five rounds of Six Cups later Freddie was feeling much more confident. He was kicking Ryan's ass. Or at least he thought he was, it was really hard to tell. He'd only had to drink ten times so far… or was it twelve. And Ryan had had at least that many… maybe more. God, it's would be much easier to figure out who was winning if the cups would quit moving around on the table, or if the world would stop spinning – either one would be a help.

"Benson!" He heard his name being yelled by one of the guys at the table, but he couldn't tell which one of the guys had said it. Maybe that guy sitting across from him – or his twin – didn't really matter, they both needed to stop moving so much. He was getting dizzy. Dizzy. That was a funny word. Zzzzz. Zzzzz. The z's sounded funny. He laughed out loud, smacking his hand on the table, missing and knocking a cup off, spilling beer on the floor and himself.

"No fair Benson!" Yep, that voice was definitely Ryan. Definitely, probably that douchebag Ryan. "If you spill it you just gotta fill the cup back up and drink again!" He heard the guys around him agreeing to this rule as he reached out for the cup he'd dropped and extended it to…the blurry guy beside him to fill."

"Uh oh, Fredman – looks like you're in trouble!"

Freddie looked toward where blurry, beer pouring guy was pointing. He squinted his eyes and tried to make the image more clear. It looked like….

"Carly Shay!" He called out to her, "Coming to join us! You're a little late so you'll have to catch up." He staged over to her and put an arm around her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "I gotta warn you though… I'm pretty good at this game. I think…" he said, laughing as he swung his half-filled cup around.

"Freddie, what you are doing?" Carly screamed, entirely too loud, in his ear.

"Shhhh…" Freddie said, his finger to her lips.

Carly yanked his hand from her lips and grabbed his arm, pulling back toward the house.

"Aww… does little Freddie gotta go home?" Ryan said, tripping over a chair, spilling beer on himself and the chair's inhabitants as he staggered toward where Carly and Freddie stood. "And here I thought you were one of us." He said, clapping Freddie on the back.

"He doesn't need to be like one of you… you… you… delinquents!" Carly spat at Ryan.

"Aww… come on Carly, we're just playin' a game" Freddie said, leaning into Carly's ear.

"Yeah Carly, we're just playing a game. And Freddie here is winning" Ryan laughed and looked toward the rest of the guys, "Isn't he guys?" They all yelled their agreement, calling out Freddie's name in unison.

Freddie turned back to the table, where it appeared the game had stopped, and walked back toward his chair. If he left now he'd look like the wimp who let his girlfriend's girlfriend tell him what to do. He couldn't let that happen.

"Freddie, let's go!" Carly said, reaching out to grab his arm. He jerked away. "Freddie!" she called to his retreating form.

This wasn't Freddie, not the Freddie she'd known all her life. He was flushed, his shirt undone, wet spots all over his pants and shirt – alcohol from the smell of it. He smelled like a brewery, staggering around like a drunk hobo. This was crazy. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never known him to be like this. And he was out here with Ryan, the guy he'd just had a standoff with in the house not two hours ago.

She stared after him until she felt warm breath on her ear, turning, she glared at Ryan – towering over her and staring at Freddie with an amused look on his face.

"Poor dude," Ryan said, sounding much more sober than he had when he'd stumbled over to her a minute ago, "He's gonna be a mess in the morning. Hope you're strong enough to get him to the car." He laughed.

Carly looked up at him, noticing now that his eyes didn't have the same drunk look that Freddie's did, his face wasn't flushed and he was now standing upright, looking down at her with a smirk on his face. He must have noticed the question in her eyes because he lifted the red cup he'd been holding and poured it out at her feet. Water.

"What the hell Ryan! So you're all drinking water and Freddie's drinking…"

"It's just a little beer Carly… no big deal. I mean Freddie's a big boy. He was mister big and bad in there with Sam, so we figured we'd give him a chance to show us just how bad he was!" he laughed as if he expected Carly to join in. And even harder when he saw that she wasn't going to.

Carly pulled her phone from a pocket and began to dial the only number she thought would help.

Sam.

"Oh, are you calling Sammy? Great idea, tell her to come down here and see just how lame her boyfriend really is." With that he went back to his pretend drunkenness and stumbled over to the table, standing beside Freddie. He called back to Carly. "And tell her that if he's too drunk to drive…she can always come home with me." He laughed and bumped fists with the guy standing next to him. Freddie continued to stare into the cup in front of him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the only game they were really playing was 'Make Freddie look like an ass' and he was definitely winning.

Carly paced nervously, waiting for Sam to pick up the phone.

"Carly?" Sam was screaming, she must still be where Carly had left her, sitting in a chair by the dance floor. She'd told Sam she was going to the bathroom but she'd gone looking for Freddie instead. She knew that Sam wanted to talk to Freddie but she was so mad that her stubbornness was winning out and she'd been sitting with Carly doing a horrible job of making small talk; her mind obviously preoccupied with the fight she and Freddie had just had.

"Sam! You gotta get out here!"

"Where are you? And what's wrong… you sound freaked"

"I'm out in the garden by the pool. It's Freddie, Sam. It's bad."

All she heard on the other end was a click as Sam hurriedly ended the call. Seconds later, she saw Sam running down the steps from the pool and was thankful that she hadn't been able to talk her into wearing the heels.

"What the hell is going on Carly? Where's Freddie?"

Carly said nothing, not even sure how to begin but she turned toward where Freddie sat, Sam's eyes following hers. In the time it had taken Sam to get out here Freddie had conked out. He was now face down on the table, sitting dangerously close to the edge of his chair, one arm hanging loosely at his side. She heard Sam draw in a breath as she took in the scene in front of her. She turned and saw a look of pure rage on Sam's face. She'd seen that look before and - the results had never been good. This could get ugly…fast.

Sam took off in the direction of the table, catching Ryan's eye as she stalked toward him. Usually she ran at her prey. If she was walking it could only mean that she was thinking … thinking of what damage she could do once she got to him. Sam was small, but she was fierce and anyone who doubted her ability to inflict serious pain would regret it.

"Sammy!" Ryan called out to Sam, "So good of you to join us. Your boyfriend and I were just getting… better acquainted." He laughed, placing a hand on Freddie's seemingly unconscious head. "I gotta tell you Sammy…I'm a little surprised that you'd end up with a lightweight."

"What did you do asshole?" Sam spat at him, "What the hell did you give him?"

"Awww…come on beautiful, why the name calling? I thought we were better friends than that." He laughed, but was smart enough to keep his distance from the blond who looked like she'd explode at any minute. "It was just a little beer. And some whiskey – a lot of whiskey. After the fifth drink he couldn't even tell the difference."

Sam knelt beside Freddie, not caring that her dress was getting soaked with the remains of spilled drinks. She brushed her hand across Freddie's forehead, patting the side of his face in an effort to get him awake.

"Freddie…. Baby, wake up. It's time to go home. Freddie!" she called, more urgently now, the fear evident in her voice. Freddie didn't drink. Ever. It was one of the things she liked the most about him, she never had to worry that he'd get drunk and hurt her or make an ass of himself. She didn't use to worry about it, anyway.

Freddie's eyes fluttered open, going wide as it seemed to register that Sam was in his face.

"Sam?" he said weakly.

"Yeah baby, it's me. Come on, stand up. It's time to go."

"Aww, isn't that sweet" Ryan said, "Freddie's girlfriend came to save him!"

Carly walked up to Sam, putting a hand on her shoulder. It wouldn't help for Sam to tear into Ryan right now. They needed to get Freddie home. She just wanted to get out of here. She felt Sam shaking with anger beneath her hand. Sam reached out and gently squeezed Carly's hand, letting go and standing beside her.

"I'm not here because he needs me to save him you idiot."

"Oh really, well that's what it looks like from over here…right guys?" Ryan called out to his friends. But they'd seen the look in Sam's eyes and knew her well enough to know that it was best to shut up.

"I don't give two flying flips what it looks like to you Ryan, you asshole. I'm here because I love him. Something you wouldn't know anything about because you are too disgusting of a human being to ever be lucky enough to know what it feels like to have someone love you." She spit at him through clenched teeth, "Regardless of what you and your crew of brainless drones think, Freddie is more of a man than any of you could ever be; and he doesn't need me to fight his battles." She paused and walked closer to Ryan, "But I swear to you, if I hear that you have so much as breathed in his direction again I will not hesitate to put your balls in a Mason jar!" with that she leaned down and with Carly's help, pulled Freddie to a standing position.

"You mean the same jar you've got his in?"

The patio grew silent, and then three things happened all at once.

Ryan turned to his friends (who were still too scared of Sam to laugh at his comment), Carly felt Freddie stir beside her and watched in horror as he propelled himself toward Ryan too quickly for she or Sam to grab him.

"Freddie!" they both cried in unison.

Ryan turned back toward the sound of them screaming and his eyes went wide as he tried to raise his hands to his face. His defense was about two seconds too late as Freddie's fist connected with his nose, sending him flying backward into the koi pond, where he sat holding his bleeding, possibly broken nose, flailing around, trying to right himself in the water.

Sam and Carly just stared in shock, first at Ryan and then at Freddie who seemed to have used all his excess energy to hit Ryan and was now laying in a heap on the ground at their feet. They seemed to realize his current position at the same time and they both reached down, each grabbing one of his arms, standing him on his feet. Sam reached into his front pocket and drew out his car keys.

"Let's go," she said, already walking toward the house, "I'll drive." Her voice left no room for argument and Carly rushed to keep up with her as Freddie's weight leaned on her shoulder.

They walked through the crowds, ignoring the questions about what was wrong with Freddie.

"Shouldn't we tell Gibby we're leaving" Carly asked. Gibby had met them there but she'd hardly seen him all night – a fact she was fairly happy with.

"He got here on his own, he can get home on his own." Sam said, staring straight ahead, her jaw set in a tight line.

Carly didn't argue and followed Sam's lead as they exited the house, heading for Freddie's car which was parked on the street. Once they'd reached the car Sam hit the button to unlock the doors opening the back door and helping Carly to lay Freddie down on the back seat. He came to for a minute, looking up at a confused Sam and Carly.

"Wasss goin on?" he slurred, attempting to raise his head from the seat. Sam pushed his head back down and Carly could see from her face that she was trying very hard not to yell at him.

"Just lay down Freddie, we're taking you home."

"You can't drive thisss car…is my mom's. I'll drive" Freddie attempted to lift himself up in his seat.

Sam pushed Freddie's feet back into the seat and slammed the door, ignoring Freddie's insistence that he was sober enough to drive.

"Get in Carly." Sam said, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the car.

Sam didn't have a car of her own so Carly had never been in a car with Sam behind the wheel. She bit her lip to avoid asking Sam if she was sure she could drive Freddie's car. She had a feeling that it would be the worst question she could ask under the circumstances. She put on her seatbelt, said a silent prayer and held her breath as Sam pulled out onto the street, heading for home.

They got to Bushwell in record time, it seemed that Sam had something of a lead foot. Carly wasn't sure if it was natural or because of their present situation. Sam hadn't said much during the ride. She'd called periodic reassurances over the seat to Freddie, trying to get him to calm down during the brief periods he came to and started complaining. By the time they reached Bushwell Plaza his complaints had quieted and Carly heard soft snores coming from the backseat, interrupted occasionally by quiet pleading for Sam to make the room stop spinning.

They took up their previous positions on either side of Freddie and helped him into the building. Carly said a silent prayer of thanks when the lobby was empty. She didn't think she could deal with Lewbert right now. Sam pressed the button to call the elevator and when it arrived, she and Carly dragged Freddie inside. He was looking more than a little green now and Carly was getting a little worried that pretty soon they'd be cleaning up the remains of his drinking game off the floor of the elevator.

Finally, thankfully, they reached the eighth floor. Sam pulled out Freddie's keys and headed toward his door.

"Sam!" Carly whispered loudly, "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking him home."

"What about his mom? She'll kill him… and you!"

"Don't sweat it Carly. She's gone; won't be home until tomorrow morning." Sam turned back toward the door, moving Freddie head from where it was currently breathing whiskey breath into her face, "Can you hold him up for a second Carls. I gotta get this door open." Freddie was drunk and Sam was using an actual key to open a door. This night just got weirder and weirder.

Sam finally got the door open and Carly helped her to get Freddie into the house and onto his bed. Both girls breathed a sigh of relief at the weight literally being lifted from their shoulders.

"So what now?" Carly asked.

Sam stared down at Freddie, her face unreadable. After a few moments of silence, during which Carly wondered if Sam had even heard her, Sam sighed.

"You can go home Carly. I'll take care of him." she looked up at Carly and gave a weak smile.

"Sam… I can stay and help you if you want."

Sam looked at Freddie where he was laying on the bed. Her face softened and she smiled a soft smile. If Carly had ever had a doubt about the love between the two of them, that look made it all clear.

"It's cool, Carly. Taking care of him is sort of my job now."

Carly hugged her, made her promise to come over when she left Freddie and let her know if she needed anything during the night. After a dozen reassurances, Sam waved Carly into her own apartment, shut Freddie's door and leaned heavily against it.

Alone with her thoughts she wondered what she should do. Her stomach was in knots with conflicting emotions. She was angry. How in the world could Freddie be dumb enough to get drunk with Ryan? She was scared. Freddie wasn't a drinker – anything could have happened. What if he'd tried to drive himself home? Just the thought of what could have happened to him made her sick to her stomach.

The sound of Freddie moaning jarred her from her thoughts and she ran to his room just in time to see Freddie, his face a disturbing shade of green, trying to get to the bathroom. She ran to his side and attempted to help him into the bathroom, where he leaned over the toilet, letting go of the alcohol he'd consumed. Sam reached up into the cupboard by the bathroom door, pulling out a washcloth that she soaked in cold water from the sink. She returned to sit beside Freddie, perching on the edge of the bathtub, holding the cold cloth to his neck, rubbing slow, soft circles on his back.

"Oh, God," Freddie groaned, "I think my head is going to split open. Please…kill me now"

If she wasn't so scared Sam might have laughed. If you'd asked anyone who'd seen them leaving for a party tonight which one of them would wind up praying to the porcelain gods, odds would probably have been on Sam. No one in a million years would have imagined Freddie in this situation. Including her. And this departure from who she knew him to be was what scared her the most.

"It's okay baby," She said, trying to soothe him, "I'm here with you. It's going to be okay."

When she was sure he'd emptied anything that could have been left in his stomach, Sam wiped his face and mouth and helped him to stand up. Laying him back in his bed, with a trash can at the ready, she took off his shoes and his shirt.

She slumped to the floor beside his bed, drew her knees to her chin and lay her head on them. The only sounds in the house were the faint hum of the refrigerator and Freddie's soft snores. She turned to look at him.

She loved this boy. She wasn't sure that she'd understood just how much until tonight. She'd been so hurt when they fought, and so scared when she'd saw him slumped over that table. She'd seen plenty of drunks in her life – her mom was like a magnet. But seeing Freddie in that state was different. She counted on Freddie to be the steady one in their relationship. To be the one that cleaned up the messes and made things better when they'd gone wrong. But tonight she'd realized, this relationship wasn't about Freddie taking care of her. It wasn't about Freddie loving her. Tonight something had stirred in her. She wanted to be steady for him. She wanted him to be able to depend on the fact that if he needed her, she would be there to take care of him just like he did for her. She loved him. As she stared at him the feeling consumed her. And so she'd sit here – all night if she had to. Taking care of him, no matter what that took. This had been a hell of a night. And it wasn't over.

She reached out and held his hand, laying her face against it, and when sleep took her she still hadn't let go.

* * *

"Sam?"

She heard her name from somewhere far away. Her body ached and she was sitting in a really uncomfortable position, but that voice – it pulled her to wake up. She jerked awake as Freddie's voiced caused a flood of memories from last night to come flying at her all at once. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head and focus on the face in front of hers.

Freddie groaned and put a hand to his head. "I feel like hot chizz."

"You look even worse." she said, reaching up to touch his face.

Freddie closed his eyes and leaned into Sam's hand. He wasn't sure what to say. He felt horrible. And if the glimpses of last night coming back to him now were any indication, then he had every reason to feel that way. His head was pounding and the only thing louder was the screaming in his stomach. But none of that compared with what he felt when he looked into Sam's eyes. She looked so worried. She stretched and suddenly a thought occurred to him.

"Did you sit there all night."

Sam nodded, wordlessly. He needed to escape this room full of her hurt and his failure. He struggled to his feet and walked into the bathroom. Shutting the door he leaned against the sink, looking at his reflection.

'_You're an idiot'_ he said. No one needed to answer for him to know it was true. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a washcloth, washing his face and brushing his teeth. When it was over he took a deep breath and headed back into the bedroom to face whatever he'd have to. Sam was sitting in the same position, not raising her head when he entered the room.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Five thirty. You've been out for a while." Sam said, standing and leaving the room. She returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water and two aspirin. "I found these in your mom's first aid kit." She handed him the water and the aspirin, helping him to sit up on the bed while she perched on the edge beside him, silent.

"So…" he started, "I guess we should probably… talk."

"Yeah. We probably should." She said, "How much do you remember?"

"Enough." He shook his head and tried to sit up, pulling onto the bed beside him. "Enough to know that it was…bad"

"Bad. I guess that's one way to put it." She sighed and sat forward, her head in her hands. "You scared me." She said, her voice so soft and quiet that it threatened to shatter his heart.

He'd hurt her. That much was evident. And scared her. All because of his pride, and insecurity. He'd wanted to badly to be strong for her, to be able to protect her and all he'd managed to do was prove that he was unworthy of the task. He was at odds with himself, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, tell her how sorry he was, promise her that he'd never hurt her again. She sat quietly hunched over her knees. He wouldn't blame her if she left right now and never came back, but the thought of it paralyzed him and stole his voice.

She turned to look at him, her face was still but her eyes – those beautiful blue eyes, were filled with tears. They sat that way for what felt like an eternity, staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. And then at once she reached for him, slapping him squarely in the face. He reached up to touch the stinging spot on his face, too shocked to move.

"Do you have any idea what that was like? Do you know how badly this could have turned out? You scared me and Carly to death!" she screamed, her face red as tears ran down both cheeks.

He did the only thing he could think to do. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her to his chest. For a moment she was perfectly stiff and he held his breath, terrified that this time he'd get worse than a slap in the face. Slowly she melted into him, her tears wet on his bare chest. She continued crying as he rocked her, moving closer to her, pulling her onto his lap.

"I'm so, so sorry." He whispered into her ear, praying she heard him – that she believed him. "I never meant to hurt you, I just…" he wasn't sure what to say then or how to explain it to her. With nothing left to say he just rocked her, waiting as her sobs grew softer and eventually tapered off into sniffles.

He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed a tissue, placing it in her hands. She sat up and wiped at her face, her eyes trained on Freddie. She moved down off his lap, sitting across from him at the foot of his bed, her legs crossed Indian style.

"So what happened Freddie? What were you thinking? One minute you're fighting with me about… I don't even know what and the next you're sitting in a drunken heap with Ryan! You don't drink! I just…I don't get it!"

Freddie knew that she needed an answer. And even though he wasn't sure she'd understand his, he knew he owed it to her to try to explain. He only hoped that whatever he said, at the end of it, he'd still be able to call her his.

"Remember when you told me how hard it was to believe that I wouldn't leave you?" he looked at her as she shook her head slowly, "Well… sometimes I guess I feel the same way. Look at you. You're so strong and beautiful and there's always some guy talking about how hot you are… and how they don't understand why you're with me. And sometimes I don't understand it either. I mean, I've heard stories about your ex-boyfriends and I'm just so different from them. I mean… they play sports, I play video games. They go to juvie – I go to computer camp. They're cool and tough and I'm just… me. I can't compete with that." He lowered his head. There is was, all his insecurity laid in front of her.

Sam sat watching him, twirling her hair around her fingers.

"Sam…" he started.

"No Freddie," she said, reaching out to place a finger on his lips. "My turn." She put her head down for a moment and Freddie held his breath, terrified of her silence but even more scared of what she might say.

"Do you know what I did last night?" she asked.

_Watched me puke, _Freddie thought.

"I watched you. I sat and stared at you, making sure you were breathing; even after I knew you were okay. Do you know why?" Freddie was silent, "Because for about an hour last night I couldn't shake the thought that I could have lost you. You could have been dumb enough to get behind the wheel. You could have gotten alcohol poisoning. And when I tried to think about what my life would be like without you in it… I couldn't." she looked into his eyes, overwhelming him with the love he saw there. "Don't you get it Freddie? I love you! You! Just the way you are. I love that you're some sort of freaky tech genius. And I love that you love your mother enough to let her embarrass you. I love that you fight for what you want, for what you believe in. And I love the way you love me. The way you refused to let me walk away, the way that no matter how hard I tried to push you away you just kept coming back, kept loving me, and kept fighting to bring me back. When I was too scared to believe in us, you believed enough for us both." She paused and came closer to him.

"I know you aren't like the other guys I've dated. That's one of the things I love the most. You're different, so completely different than what I've been used to. When I was with them it was – regular, normal I guess. But when I'm with you… it's like every single minute is special. Every day I get to spend with you makes me feel like anything is possible. Being with you isn't regular or normal. Being with you makes me a part of something special."

Sam grew silent and in the silence Freddie wrestled with his emotions. Part of him was ecstatic at what she'd said. She loved him – and had said so with no prompt from him. He thought is heart might explode from happiness. But another part of him looked into her face and knew that before he could celebrate her feelings for him, something else had to be done.

He moved down toward the end of the bed and reached out tentatively to Sam's face, tilting it to look up at him. He asked a question with his eyes that her small smile answered. Leaning in he placed his lips lightly on hers, waiting her to respond. He felt her hands reach up to wrap around his neck and he lowered his arms to her waist, pulling her into him. The kiss was soft, filled with the words they hadn't said, the promises they'd yet to make. He felt wetness on his cheek and knew that she was crying, he could only hope that this time it was with happiness because he never wanted to see any other kind of tears on her beautiful face.

The sound of Sam's phone forced them to pull apart, both flushed.

"It's Carly," Sam said, standing as she read her text message. "I told her I'd be back before seven, you know…since your mom's home at eight." She looked at Freddie and smiled, "Walk me?"

"Or you could just stay…" he said.

"Right… you mom would love that!"

"I thought you and my mom were friends now?" Freddie laughed, coming to stand behind her, placing a kiss on her neck.

"Your mom and I have… an understanding." Sam said, trying to squirm out of his arms, "An understanding that will go right out the window if she walks in here and catches me in your bed."

Freddie groaned as Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door.

Arriving at the Shay's apartment door he reached down and wrapped his arms around her. It had been a long night and he wasn't ready to let her go. Sam nuzzled into his neck and gave a contented sigh. They'd done it again. Faced a problem, a big one, and managed to come out the other side… together.

"I love you, Sam Puckett."

"I love you too. But if you ever pull something like last night again I promise I'll…"

"Put my nuts in a Mason jar?" he asked. Sam scrunched her nose in embarrassment.

"You heard that?"

"Yeah, it's coming back to me now," he laughed. "But you don't have to worry. It won't happen again. I promise."

"It better not! Because next time I'd have to kill you …and I'm getting kind of used to having you around." She smiled up at him.

"And I plan on keeping it that way."


	4. Daddy's Girl

**Chapter 4: Daddy's Girl**

* * *

8 am. It was a beautiful Sunday in June, the third Sunday, to be precise. Freddie Benson lay awake in bed, his alarm having gone off shortly before. He always set an alarm, even on weekends when he never expected to leave the apartment. It would have been unthinkable to most kids his age to wake themselves early deliberately during summer vacation; but those kids didn't have his mother.

Freddie was nearly 18, yet his mother still barged, uninvited, into his room on weekends to rouse him, usually with some annoying rhyme, and always with some ridiculous excuse when what she really wanted to do was snoop. It had become worse over the past few months, because Marissa Benson was obviously looking for evidence that Sam Puckett had been in his room. The day before Freddie had caught her looking closely at a hair found on his pillow, checking it carefully for length (sorry, Mom, short) and color (sorry again, brown). But she would back off when she came in to find Freddie awake. So the alarm clock was less about convenience, and more about necessity.

"Freddie-bear, I'm off to the hospital, and I won't be back until after dinnertime. The refrigerator is full. Are you going to be okay today?"

This was probably the one day a year that his mother wasn't worried about Freddie having some freak home accident. It was Fathers' Day, a day that Freddie hadn't taken well since losing his father to a heart attack when Freddie was just five. Generally, he did nothing on Father's Day, not changing out of his pajamas, and often not even bothering to eat. Most of the time he was okay with having to grow up without his father; he didn't think about it too much, since both of his best friends were without fathers. Sam's was gone and Carly's was out to sea most of the time, so it wasn't like he had a lot of chances to think of what he was missing. But one day a year, it was impossible not to think about it. One day a year the pain was fresh and he felt just as hurt and alone as he had in the years immediately following his father's death.

When Jack Benson died, Freddie withdrew into a shell. His performance in school faltered so badly that his mother withdrew him and attempted to home-school him, a failure that caused Freddie to be a year older than most of his classmates at Ridgeway. He was out of that shell now, but he still spent Father's Day alone; he never saw his two closest friends. Carly always went to Yakima with her brother Spencer to visit their grandfather in years that her father couldn't get leave to come home. And Sam Puckett simply disappeared from both the real and virtual worlds for the day.

Freddie wondered if Sam sulked around the house the way he did. She surely had the same feelings about Fathers' Day, maybe even worse. Freddie always knew that Sam's father had abandoned the family, but until he'd talked to Sam's mom he'd never known the details. In between numerous flirtatious and creepy remarks, Pam Puckett told Freddie that Sam's father had divorced her when Sam was five, and had left Seattle. Two years after that, he broke contact with the family, and Sam hadn't heard from him in any form since. Sam was devastated; she had been very close to her father, and according to Pam, had loved him deeply. She said Sam was never the same after that. In the last month he'd seen with his own eyes that the hurt remained strong in Sam. He felt it the night Sam had broken up with him.

_You're gonna leave. You're a liar, just like the rest of them._

Freddie had slowly realized that Sam had a long history of bad relationships with the men who she thought loved her. Her father vanished, uncles in prison, followed by several "boyfriends" who had broken up with her, in a couple of cases because they were using her to get to know Carly. Sam was slow to trust anyone, especially men. Even though she had spent every day for the past six years around Carly and Freddie, Carly was like a sister, while, up until this year, Freddie had been held at arm's length and pushed away with verbal and sometimes physical violence. No matter how well she knew Freddie, or how many years he'd been around, there'd always been a wall, first of indifference, then of fear, that she wouldn't let him cross.

When they'd started hanging out, and then dating (it still felt a little weird to say it, even to himself) she'd still held him at arm's length, scared he'd leave and hurt her like all the other men in her life did. No matter how hard he'd tried to convince her otherwise, she'd eventually broken it off with him, convinced that, eventually, he'd leave. It had almost killed him, experiencing the rush of having her in his life, of being able to say she was really his, only to have her walk away – he'd been scared she'd never come back. He was never so glad to be wrong. After their reconciliation at the prom, Sam had warmed to him again. But while she was physically affectionate once again, he could still feel her holding something back. Freddie worried about their relationship, and constantly lived in fear of Sam preemptively breaking it off again.

But despite this, Freddie clung to the hope that his girlfriend would rather spend a day with him, even if she was sad, than stay in her bed alone. He picked up his phone, reading the unanswered text messages he had sent Sam over the course of the morning:

_Good morning Princess Puckett…_

_Hey there, r u up yet?_

_Plans for today?_

Silence.

11 am. He knew there was no changing Sam's mind when she didn't feel like seeing anyone. When they were younger, he'd just ignore her, leave her to herself and thank God for the reprieve from being pummeled. As he got older, he became a little more willing to talk to her when she felt that way; but it was increasingly looking like he would not get that chance today.

Breakfast was out of the way, and a pound of bacon was fried up and set aside in the hope of a certain girlfriend inhaling it before lunchtime. Freddie contemplated bagging up the bacon and setting off for Sam's house, wondering if he could coax her into getting out of bed and opening the door.

Freddie was already at work on his usual mental checklist of what he would take to Sam's, beginning with the bacon, when he thought he heard a light tap at the door. He walked toward the door, wondering if it could be Sam. But Sam liked her entrances to be momentous and surprising. Her two favorite modes of operation were picking the locks (Freddie longed to give her a key and be done with it, but he had to get his mother used to the idea first—that should take place right around the first day of never) and coming in his bedroom window via the fire escape, a nice feat when they were on the eighth floor.

He went to the door and looked through the peephole, hoping, successfully it turned out, that he would see a mound of curly blond hair. He pulled the door open quickly, in time to hear Sam gasp for air loudly. He stood shocked at the sight before him.

She was crying. Not just regular crying. She was crying so uncontrollably that she could barely breathe. She was wearing a plain gray t-shirt (Freddie didn't even notice that it was one of his) and a pair of blue sweats, with no makeup. For a moment he didn't know what to do. He mentally ran though his list of tricks on dealing with the different incarnations of Sam. Angry Sam – run and hope she can't catch you. Hungry Sam – feed her, fast! Lazy Sam – give her a Peppy Cola if you expected her to work, or walk very quietly if she decided to take a nap and you didn't want to go back to dealing with Angry Sam. He had no frame of reference for Inconsolable Sam.

He looked into her red rimmed eyes, searching for a clue on what to do. Even full of tears, he knew those eyes. And he knew the heart behind those eyes, the heart of a girl who'd spent her life trying to keep everyone from seeing what she was letting him see now. Real Sam. He knew what to do. A week previously, Sam was there for him when he drank himself sick at that party. Today, he would do the giving.

He took a step toward her and opened his arms. She crossed the space between them, burying her head in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on the hair still wet from her shower. He urged her into the apartment, got her to kick off her sneakers (partly his mother's cleanliness thing, but mostly to add an extra step just in case she tried to run away) and moved her to the couch, where she sat. She leaned right into his chest and continued to cry.

"What's wrong, Sam?" he softly said into her ear. Of course he knew. He fully expected her to be this upset on Fathers' Day. He just needed to hear her voice.

"My mother didn't come home last night," Sam finally said, once her crying died down and she got control of her breathing. "I couldn't stand being alone; being in that house. Can I stay here today?"

"Of course. Come on, sit back, take deep breaths, Sam." Freddie ran to his bathroom and wet a washcloth, coming back out and handing it to Sam. Using a trick he learned from his mother, he put it into Sam's hand and had her hold it against the back of her neck. It seemed to help her… a little anyway. She stopped crying, long enough for Freddie to press a tissue to her cheeks and dry them.

Freddie sat beside Sam in silence, holding her hand as her sobs tapered off to sniffles. She was quiet, hiding behind her wall. History told him to let it go, sit and enjoy her company – maybe get in a kiss or two. But his heart said something different. Sam had been building her wall for a long time, but today, showing up at his house and letting him see her in this state, he felt like she'd given him an invitation to help her tear it down.

"Is it your dad?" he said quietly.

"I hate that bastard, Freddie. I hate what he did to my mother. What he did to Melanie. What he did to me." Her voice was full of anger and pain, "I hate that it still hurts." She whispered. Her tears began fresh and he leaned back on the couch, pulling her to him and putting his arms around her. She leaned into him, putting all her weight on him, and setting her head under his chin. "And he almost made me lose _you_. Making me believe that you would leave the way he did. The way they all did."

Freddie was still not altogether sure of what to do. Until about four months previously, he had never seen Sam cry. There were a couple of times that Sam had gotten Carly to make Freddie leave the room because she thought she would cry. Freddie just accepted that she didn't, or at least that he would never see it. But he saw her cry for the first time the afternoon following the lock-in, when he went to her house, knelt in front of her as she sat on her couch, and confessed his own feelings for her. They had cried for each other since, through their breakup and reunion. But this was different … Sam was crying for her father, the father she never spoke of to anyone. He was terrified that Sam would bolt, and was already wondering if he should run after her if she did. But she stayed right there with him, holding onto him for dear life as the tears flowed.

He held her quietly for several minutes, until her sobbing slowed. He moved his mouth closer to her ear, speaking in the gentlest voice he could muster.

"Sam, this is absolutely the worst day of the year, for both of us. No one deserves to be treated the way he treated you. His duty was to love the three of you. Unconditionally. But what he did wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do. You carried on."

"I know what it's like to have a promise broken and I know that you're hurting but I'm going to be right here with you. I promised you that before, and I'm promising it again. I believe in keeping my promises. I finish what I start." Sam pulled away and began to shake her head, but Freddie continued. "I know you remember the years that we spent fighting. All the times you tried to push me away, all those times I wanted us to be closer, to really be friends." He laughed lightly. "You spent most of your times trying to figure out new and more painful ways to push me away. Well, I didn't run then, and I'm not going to now. I told you before, there's nothing you could do to make me leave. None of that has changed."

"I grew up without my dad too. I still remember the night he died, right in our living room. Down on the floor. The paramedics putting him onto the stretcher. And Mom making me stay in my bedroom. I never saw him again. Not alive. He was gone before he got to the hospital. I don't remember much about the days right after that. I guess I was numb. Maybe I blocked them out. No warning, Sam. He was just 38 years old. And Mom. It changed her completely. She became …" Freddie tried to gesture at the floors and kitchen, unsure if Sam would get the reference to his mother's obsession with hygiene, "like she is now. I think it was the only way she knew how to deal with it."

Sam raised her head off Freddie, swallowed, and spoke for the first time in nearly half an hour.

"Your mom told me about your dad the night of the prom. When she talked about him, I could tell she really loved him. I never knew how…how hard it was for you." She looked at her hands. "Look Freddie, today is rough enough on you without my coming here with all of my problems. I should go, I'll see you…"

She began to stand, and Freddie grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to the couch, a little more roughly than he meant to, but Sam sat back down.

"Today _used_ to be rough" he started, "it was for a long time. But now…it doesn't feel as bad. I still feel some pain, but it's mostly healed. I don't sit and feel sorry about the past. Every day I watch my mother do it, and I see what that's like. I try to think about the future, when I'll be with my own kids. And … the past couple of months, I've kind of been seeing that image more clearly than I did before."

He paused again. Sam looked deep in thought. He hadn't meant to say something that forward, but it was true. He often fantasized about having his own family and his own house. But over the past few months, the generic image of a future wife had given way to one of Sam. It was no doubt ridiculous to be dreaming about what it would be like to be married to Sam, and about what their kids would look like, when they'd only been together for what amounted to weeks. But that was what he felt toward Sam deep inside. She was not casual fun. He loved her, and hoped he would be with her for a long time. Sam still looked pensive, but not upset. It was not what he expected after alluding, however indirectly, to her having his children.

He decided to continue speaking, this time timidly venturing into the subject of Sam's father.

"So I know what it's like to lose a father. It has to be worse for you. My dad had no choice in leaving, and no way to come back. So … your dad just left? He didn't say goodbye to you?" He feared he'd gone too far - asked too much as he saw her taking a deep breath to steady herself. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No. No, it's okay." She raised her eyes to look directly into his, "I trust you."

He thought his heart might burst at those words. He couldn't think of anything that would sound sweeter. Anyone who knew anything about Sam Puckett could tell you that meant just as much as her telling him she loved him. She smiled at him, at what he was sure was a look of pure joy on his face, and continued.

"It was at night, on my fifth birthday. He came into my room, after our birthday party, and said he had to go away, but he promised he'd come back…" Sam's voice faded out.

"Do you talk to him? Does he write to you?"

She just shook her head "no," and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them closer to her chest.

"Where is he now?" Freddie continued, but Sam didn't answer, resting her forehead against her knees.

Freddie reached his arm around her shoulder again, and pulled her into him. He was again relieved that she was letting him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be trying to force you to talk. This is for you to talk about when you want to. But if you ever need to talk about it, if you want to get something off your chest, you know I'm here, right? And it will stay right here, between us," he said, making sure Sam looked at him as he pointed to his heart. "You've never told Carly about your father, have you…" Sam shook her head again, and the tears returned. Freddie did the only thing he could do. He held her, and hoped that she could feel the love he had for her, and that it would comfort her. "Let it out, baby," he said softly, "you're safe here…with me."

After a while, Sam had finally cried herself out, and she yawned while leaning more heavily into Freddie, catching his attention.

"Do you want to take a nap?"

"I smell bacon," Sam interrupted, just above a whisper.

_Good, Princess Puckett is still in there _, Freddie thought to himself. Motioning Sam to stay put, he went to the bacon still on the kitchen counter, and grabbed some bread and cheese slices to make grilled cheese with bacon sandwiches for lunch. He made them quickly, with some lettuce and tomato slices on the side (he'd gotten very creative at making sure Sam regularly ate some kind of vegetable), taking the stack of sandwiches out to Sam, together with several cans of Wahoo Punch.

Sam ate and drank quietly, but she ate with him nonetheless. Freddie briefly missed the gusto and enthusiasm Sam usually brought to having a meal. She did not eat food so much as tear through it like a tornado. It could be an experience … she'd keep right on with her conversation, not waiting to speak between bites, and she'd chew with her mouth open, spraying crumbs everywhere. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought this should horrify him, and he dreaded eating with her in a really fancy restaurant. But frankly, who could appreciate Sam Puckett without finding her passion for food … endearing?

But none of that was happening now. Without passion, without that little bit of showmanship, she finished her lunch (the vegetables included), and sat back, the sleepiness still evident on her face. She dozed off, her head turned crookedly on the couch. Freddie's neck hurt just from looking at her, and he decided to try something that would have cost him an arm last year (maybe both arms, one for Sam and his mother each to break). He reached under Sam, picked her up rather easily, and, his mother be damned, carried her bridal style into his bedroom. He set her down on his bed, sitting next to her, rubbing her back in circles. After a couple of minutes, she appeared to be asleep. Freddie took a blanket and spread it across her, and began to head for the living room.

"Freddie," he heard from behind. He turned back to her, and she said, "please stay."

This was unexpected. In the course of a few hours, he'd had Sam come into his apartment by knocking on the front door, cry on his shoulder while asking him to hold her, eat quietly while thanking him for the food, let him carry her into his room, and now ask him to stay with her while she slept. His accumulated knowledge and tricks for dealing were now entirely irrelevant—his inventory had no listing for _Sam in My Bedroom_. But he walked over to his side of the bed and sat on his usual sleeping spot. Sam rolled over and came to him, crawling into his lap, where Freddie began to play with the ends of her hair. Freddie was not used to sitting in this position, and his back quickly grew sore. He nudged Sam from his lap so he could lie down, and as he did so, he pulled Sam to him, and she nuzzled into his chest.

Freddie would have loved to nap, but his mind was racing a mile a minute. Like any teenage boy would, Freddie had enjoyed thoughts involving his girlfriend and this bed, but today was way too soon for him to act on those thoughts. He was in shock that she was simply here on his bed, letting him cuddle with her. He assumed Sam was sleeping, but he looked down to see her blue eyes wide open.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, and Sam quietly nodded. He wanted to say something else, but was a little afraid, as though speaking to her would remind her too bluntly of where she was. And if she knew where she was she might decide to be somewhere else. He pulled her to him more tightly. "This is nice," he whispered.

He looked down at Sam, to see her smiling for the first time that day, a full smile without any trace of her trademark smirk. But her eyes were still clouded, and he knew she was still in the dark place where her father abandoned her. He needed to get her mind elsewhere.

He began to move the strands of hair that were blocking most of her face, and kissed the forehead he had just cleared. He continued to play with her hair, twirling strands between his fingers.

"Do you remember, back when we were really little, how I'd pull your hair when we fought?"

"Yep. I'm still wondering why I let you live," Sam replied, still smiling a little.

"I just did that so I could touch your hair," he confessed as he wrapped a few strands around a finger, "and it didn't matter if I couldn't stand the rest of you. Seriously, you should call Floyd's of Dublin and, like, insure it."

Despite the dorky joke, Sam was now smiling fully—laughing, even if it was at his expense. Her eyes had lightened and were almost sparking again. He had wanted to tell her something right from the moment they had become a couple, and he decided it was time to risk it.

"Sam, do you ever think about the first time we kissed?"

She continued to smile, and nodded, punching him playfully on the arm.

"I thought we weren't supposed to speak of it!" She laughed.

"Well, we didn't, except for that one time. But I thought about it pretty much every day, and never regretted it. And I've never told you that back on that night, I didn't really want you to leave. I was about to call you to come back as you were going through the window. I even took the breath to do it, but I lost my nerve. I wanted to kiss you again so badly. And so I wasted another two years before I got to. Two years we could have been together."

Sam was looking Freddie straight in the eye, and said softly, "I would have stayed…"

Freddie continued. "All those times I said I hated you. I never meant a word of it. I tried to come up with the perfect thing to say or do that would make us friends; make us stop pushing each other away. But you always seemed so, well, so strong I guess. I figured you didn't really need me. I wish I'd known to ask you over to watch a horror movie sooner."

Sam smiled again. He felt her relax in his arms, folding herself into his chest.

"I always knew how I felt." He said, "I didn't understand it, and I wasn't always ready to admit it, plus there was this … other thing I kept letting distract me."

Sam snorted her laughter. They both knew what, or who, the other thing was. Freddie still felt guilty for the pain he caused Sam with his childish pursuit of her best friend.

"But I always saw something coming from you, right there in your eyes. When you'd fight with me, no matter how mad you were, or how much I was trying to provoke you, your eyes sparkled. But when I'd hear you argue with your mother on the phone, or when you'd talk back to the teachers at school, they were dull and dark. So I realized you liked our bickering too, it was like our thing, a secret language only for us."

Freddie felt wetness against his face. Sam was crying again. He brushed her tears away with his finger. His heart ached with love for this girl. He wanted to hold her like this forever; make sure that no one and nothing could ever hurt her. "My Princess…" He cut himself off.

"You know…my," she paused, "my dad used to call me that."

Freddie let Sam go, and laid on his back, his head turned toward her. Sam looked down at him, a question in her eyes.

"I never knew he called you 'Princess,' Sam. I didn't mean to remind you of him when you were with me, or of how he hurt you. Or try to intrude on those memories."

Sam lay down beside him and sighed, unsure of how to respond. She knew he would never have called her that if he thought it would hurt her. And while it had stung a little in the beginning, she'd grown to see it differently.

"You weren't, Freddie. I liked it when Daddy called me 'Princess,' but it's been a long time since he did." She turned her face to look in his eyes. "When you called me that, it was coming from _you_, not him. 'Princess' is the name _you_ call me. I like it."

Freddie rolled back on his side as they embraced tightly. When they finally pulled away, he leaned over and whispered into her ear, "I love you, Samantha." Sam frowned at him immediately, silently asking _what was that for_? "I don't think I ever called you that without meaning it to anger you. And I've never told you how much I like your full name. Samantha. It's beautiful, and it's feminine."

"Pfffft. You mean you like it because it's girly!" Sam said as she started to poke Freddie in the ribs.

"Not even close. You're not a little girl. Samantha is a beautiful name for the most beautiful woman I know."

Sam immediately pulled close to him and held him tightly around the neck.

"I still hate being called that, but thank you, _Fredward_. And I love you, too. Just please none of this 'Samantha' stuff around other people, okay? I have a reputation to protect!"

"No problem, Princess."

Freddie looked over at the alarm clock. "It's 5:45, Sam. My mom will be back a little after six."

"Same drill as before," Sam sighed.

Freddie didn't want Sam to have to deal with his mother when she was still upset. They were getting along much better now, which he hoped was a good sign for the future. In fact, Sam had even given his mom a card for Mother's Day on the Sunday after the prom, with a long letter in it. His mother would not let him see the letter or talk about what was in it. But even if they were getting along and she'd softened a little toward Sam, Sam was right the night she stayed with him while he sobered up: it wouldn't matter in the least if she came back and found them on Freddie's bed.

"How about some pizza—you know that place, Giuseppe's, that Carly and I always order from? They have a little dining room, one with wine bottle drip candles. Meat Special? I'm buying…"

"Well, far be it from me to turn down free meat pizza from a nub." Sam got up from the bed and stretched, smoothed out the clothes Freddie helped her rumple, turned toward the bathroom to go wash her face, but then stopped and came back to Freddie and looked him right in the eye. "Thank you for being here when I needed you." She put her arms around Freddie's back and pulled him close to her yet again. Even though he held her for several minutes more, Freddie hated to let her go.

"Besides, I've got a couple of ideas for the summer I want to tell you about…" he said cryptically behind her.

As Sam ran into the bathroom, Freddie straightened the bed's comforter and put the pillows in place. When he did this, he noticed several very long strands of blond hair on the pillow. _The heck with my mother_, he thought. _I like knowing they're there_.

They headed through the living room to the front door, Sam walking out before Freddie could open the door for her. They were almost at the elevator when Freddie stopped, looking at the window opening into the fire escape. _Their_ fire escape, and their last stop before going out. He grabbed Sam's hand then pulled her toward the window, as he stepped through.

"What are you doing, Freddork?" Sam said through the window.

"The day you came in to watch horror movies—that was 100 days ago today, the day we really started becoming 'us.' It's time for our Hundred Day Kiss, and there's only one place I would want it to happen." Sam beamed as she moved outside.

This kiss was much less innocent, and lasted much longer than the seven, maybe eight seconds their first kiss on that fire escape took. And they were in no hurry to just get it over with.


	5. Born Day

**Chapter 5: Born Day**

Freddie Benson was organized, although if you asked other people they might have a different name for it: neurotic, freakishly neat, mildly OCD. But he didn't really care what they said; being organized had served him well. It was the reason iCarly was so successful, why his grades were stellar, why his room was neater than any teen boy's ought to be. He could count on one had the number of times when organization had not made his life easier. This was one of those times.

Freddie sat at his desk, staring absentmindedly at his computer's monitor; a white background with only four words:

_Ideas for Sam's birthday_

He made lists (Top 10 things Sam loves, Top 10 things Sam hates, Top 10 reasons Sam gets violent), he'd observed her and took notes, even flat out asked her what she wanted.

Whatever…just nothing lame.

That was her answer and he couldn't get anything else out of her. _Whatever_. _Nothing lame_. He had a lot to go on.

He closed the document. Looking at it wasn't helping. In the corner of the screen, bright yellow numbers flashed; mocking him.

_Seven days._

He'd set the clock to start counting down thirty days ago. Thirty days ago, when he'd been optimistic—almost cocky—in his belief that he was going to give Sam the best birthday she'd ever had. Admittedly it didn't seem like it'd be hard to do. Sam said that she'd only really celebrated her birthday three times. The first was her fifth birthday, when her dad left. The second was her eleventh birthday when she'd gone to Mr. Adventure and ended up being kicked out because she'd attacked Mr. Adventure's son Wonder Boy and thrown him in the ball pit when he'd tried to sing Happy Birthday to her. The third was the party Carly had thrown her when Pete called her a 'dude.' He figured that topping those three events wouldn't be difficult. He'd been so optimistic; given Sam a date and a time and told her to dress nice. So now, somewhere a couple miles away Sam was probably sitting excited about the wonderful surprise her boyfriend had planned for her. There was only one problem…he didn't have anything planned. Nothing. For once, Freddie Benson was a man without a plan.

He hadn't done it on purpose. He'd had every intention of coming up with the perfect night, the perfect gift; something that would make Sam smile that smile reserved for him; the one that made his heart melt. But the more he thought about it the more stressed he got. He wanted it to be perfect, amazing – the most wonderful night she'd ever had. This was technically going to be his and Sam's first real date. They'd gone to movies and hung out a million times but he'd never had the chance to get dressed fancy, pick her up and really take her out for the night. And if he stayed with Sam as long as he was planning to (till he was old, gray and toothless) then this was going to be one of those stories they told again and again; he wanted it to be a good one.

He pulled the document back up and started to type.

_Ideas for Sam's Birthday:_

_Dinner? Lame_

_Movies? Really lame_

_Flowers and candy? Lame enough for her to want to break my arm._

He groaned, banging his head on his desk in frustration. This was ridiculous. It really shouldn't be this hard. He knew Sam…knew what she liked, what she hated, what made her break into fits of rage. There was no one better to figure out what would make her happy right? That's what he'd thought thirty days ago. Now he wasn't so sure.

"_So, we'd probably better get to work on Sam's birthday. We've only got twenty days." Carly said._

_They were sitting together at the Groovy Smoothie, waiting for Sam to join them after her detention. It was a little weird, he thought, sitting here with Carly. He didn't think they'd hung out, just the two of them, since he and Sam and really started dating._

"_Yeah, I've been thinking about that…her birthday I mean" he said. He'd been tossing ideas around for Sam's birthday, determined to make it spectacular. It wasn't until this moment that he realized he'd never factored Carly into that equation. He'd been thinking of all the romantic things he and Sam could do, how great it was going to be to have their first official date. In his mind the evening always consisted of him, Sam, dim lights and kissing…lots of kissing. Carly never entered the picture._

"_Great! So I was thinking we could do it at my house like last time, you know, invite everyone over. I can probably get Spencer to leave for the night." She pulled a notebook out of her bag, oblivious to how uncomfortable Freddie was getting. "I made a list who we can invite" She passed the notebook to Freddie, a look of self-satisfaction on her face._

_Freddie stared at the notebook for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably._

"_Actually, Carly. I sort of…well, I sort of had something else in mind for her birthday."_

"_Oh. You planned something without me? So what are we doing?"_

"_Well, I um…" He wasn't good at this. In a friendship of three, everyone had their duties. In their little trio Carly was the planner – a job she took seriously and from the looks of it she was none too happy at having Freddie step into her territory._

"_I just don't think Sam wants a party…" he offered. It was true; she'd told him herself that she wasn't much of a party girl- at least not parties thrown in her honor. She didn't like being the center of that kind of attention and she'd only agreed to the last party Carly had thrown because Carly had gone to so much trouble and she hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings._

_Carly's face clouded over as she put the notebook down on the table between them. He'd intended to say that in a more diplomatic way than it had come out. He hadn't wanted to offend her but if her pursed lips were any indication – he hadn't succeeded in that._

"_She loved the party we threw for her last time. She had a great time!"_

"_I don't think… she's not really big on parties, Carly." The look on Carly's face made him back track, "I mean it was a great party Carly! Really great! I just think that maybe…maybe she'd rather do something else." He was really making a mess of this._

"_So you're telling me that you think you know better than I do what Sam would want?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "No offense but you've been dating for all of five minutes…she's been my best friend since elementary school!"_

_He winced internally at her words. She was pissed, but he was getting a little angry himself. Sure, he and Sam hadn't been the same sort of friends that she and Carly were but they had_ always_ been friends in their own way. He thought Carly understood that-appreciated it. But part of him also understood that this was hard for Carly._

"_Listen Carly," he said, trying to disguise the annoyance he was feeling, "I'm not trying to argue about who knows Sam better or who knew her longer. I just want her to have a really great birthday…I want to give her a really special night. Just the two of us."_

_Carly's face was an open book, always had been. At this moment he could see her internal struggle playing out on her face. She was annoyed, and shocked and, Freddie thought, a little hurt. It really hadn't been his intention, but he needed Carly to know that Sam was just as important to him as she was to Carly – maybe more. He loved Sam and while he understood Carly's need to protect her (she'd been doing it for a long time), he needed Carly to trust him to do that job now. On his own._

_He paused, thinking of a way ease the tension. "Carly, I'm not trying to leave you out, but this will be Sam's and my first real date and I just want it to be special." He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder, "But I could really use your help."_

_Carly's face brightened and he breathed a sigh of release. Crisis averted for now. Finally Carly, who seemed to have recovered some, leaned across the table toward Freddie._

"_So what do you have planned, Romeo?"_

"_Well… I was thinking I'd take her to dinner first…someplace really romantic."_

"_Sam hates romantic."_

"_Not always."_

"_Um, yeah…always. Sam isn't the 'romantic' type. It'll be too girly and you know Sam hates girly!"_

_He wasn't sure what to say to that. Before they'd started dating he might have agreed with Carly. But when he and Sam were together, she seemed to enjoy her more girly side. She let him call her Princess, and that was pretty girly…although she'd probably kill him if he told Carly that. But on the other hand, maybe she wouldn't want to show that side out in a restaurant full of people. Maybe she'd hate the idea._

"_Well…I saw this really nice bracelet downtown. It had these little charms with it and…"_

"_A charm bracelet? Are you serious?" Carly laughed over her smoothie, shaking her head. "Charm bracelets are like the girliest thing in the world!"_

"_No they aren't."_

"_Freddie… I have like four."_

_Carly was the girliest girl he knew. If she owned anything, you could bet it might as well have "GIRL" spelled over it in bright pink letters._

"_What else you got?" she asked._

"_That was sort of it… that's all I have." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair._

_Carly reached over and patted his hand sympathetically._

"_You really do need my help."_

_They hadn't finished their conversation as just then the door to the Groovy Smoothie swung open and Sam flew in – a whirlwind of blond curls and cursing as she lamented the fact that she'd just spent the last hour stuck in a room with Briggs and her bagpipes._

"_We'll talk later" Carly had whispered conspiratorially._

_And so he'd endured ten days of texts and conversations with Carly. She'd had a million ideas and not one of them had seemed right to Freddie, a fact that had frustrated them both. She'd dragged him to the mall and he'd followed her into store after store with absolutely nothing to show for it. It wasn't that her ideas were bad, they were all things that Sam would really like. The new Cuttlefish CD. A Penny tee that said 'Love Punch'. A new kit for her assassin gun. They were great gifts to give a friend; even a good friend. But they weren't gifts that said "I love you more than anything. You mean the world to me." He needed his gift to Sam to be something she could look at every day and know how much he loved her. He needed the night to be something she remembered forever. Carly kept telling him that his ideas were way too girly and if he wasn't careful she'd get pissed or think he was trying to change her._

_Freddie seriously considered that. He had no desire to change Sam. He really did love her just the way she was. The last thing he wanted her to think was that she should be any different than she was. Planning a romantic evening with Sam might seem strange to some people but, to him, it was already a part of who they were together. Wasn't it?_

With only seven days left, Carly had basically given up on him. He knew she'd bought the Cuttlefish CD and the Penny tee, likely an attempt to appease Sam in case she hated Freddie's present. As stressed as he was at not having anything planned, he couldn't help but be relieved at not being 'helped' anymore. But now he was on his own again, having wasted twenty three days with nothing to show for it.

He walked over to his nightstand to retrieve his phone, seeing that he'd missed two text messages; both from Spencer.

_Spencer: Freddo! Bobo is still a go if you need him._

_Spencer: He's pretty popular so let me know soon…_

He laughed out loud. Spencer and Carly were definitely siblings. Both of them were so helpful, but sometimes completely clueless.

Last week Freddie had gone to Carly's after school to edit the newest Pathetic Play for the next show. Carly and Sam and gone to the mall – Carly was still doing undercover work to determine what Freddie should get for Sam's birthday so he and Spencer had the place to themselves. As they sat talking there was a knock on the door and Spencer face broke into a wide grin.

"He's here!"

"Who's here?" Freddie asked, it wasn't usually a good sign when Spencer got this excited.

"Your present for Sam's birthday!" he ran toward the door swinging it open.

"Spencer…what are you talk…" Freddie couldn't finish his sentence. The sight before him had rendered him speechless.

Standing in the door beside Spencer was a six foot five clown. But this was like no clown Freddie had ever seen. He was dressed in a one piece white suit made of some sort of spandex and to say he needed to do a few sit ups was putting it lightly. Down the front of the suit were large red pom poms that had skulls attached to the front. His face, painted white, did not bear the usual happy smile of a kiddie clown; instead it had red lightning bolts painted all over at odd angles. He topped it all off with a giant blue wig, teased until it almost touched the top of the doorway. He looked like the black sheep of an unsuccessful clown family. Freddie didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Isn't he great!" Spencer cried.

"Uh…what, what is he?"

"He's BoBo!" seeing Freddie confusion, Spencer continued, "The Clown that Rocks!"

"Wassup," Bobo's voice was just as depressing as his appearance. "I'm Bobo." Before Freddie could respond, Bobo pulled on the strap Freddie had just noticed hung around his neck, revealing a guitar that had been hidden behind his back. "And I will rock you!" He said, his face contorting, eyes flashing and voice raising at least two octaves. He began to play a pretty good rendition of 'Smoke on the Water' as Spencer danced wildly beside him.

This would be funny, if it weren't so… scary. Freddie stared, wide eyed at the two of them until Bobo had finished his song. As the final note rang out in the apartment Bobo and Spencer both stared at them, Spencer smiling and Bobo back to his original frown. Freddie wasn't sure how to respond, so he clapped.

"That was uh…great, um…"

"Bobo," Spencer said.

"Wassup," Bobo deadpanned.

"Yeah…Bobo, that was great. Um, Spencer… can I talk to you in the kitchen please?"

Spencer joined him in the kitchen, all smiles.

"He's great right? You're welcome," he said, bowing his head toward Freddie.

"I'm confused, Spencer. Why is he here?"

"For you! It's your present for Sam's birthday. Carly told me you were having a hard time finding the right gift and so I thought to myself 'I gotta help my buddy Freddo' and then one night I had this really weird dream. I was in a jungle being chased by gorillas in pink tutus and I climbed up this tree to get away from them and then I got saved by a clown on a white horse and when I woke up I thought to myself 'clowns are AWESOME!' so I called Socko and he told me about his cousin Bobo and I said 'get him over here' and now he's here and you can give him to Sam!"

"You want me to give Sam a clown for her birthday?"

"Not just a clown! A clown who rocks!"

It had taken him at least an hour to convince Spencer that Bobo and his rockin' clown routine were definitely not the direction he was going in for Sam's birthday. He'd been about as hard to convince as Carly – obviously, since he was still sending him messages.

He replied to Spencer, turning down Bobo's services yet again and went back to sit at his computer.

_Seven days_

"Freddie, honey?" His mom's head popped in around his door. "I've been calling you for dinner for ten minutes!"

Freddie turned to his computer, shutting it off before turning back to his mother.

"Sorry mom, I was…thinking."

"What could you be thinking about that's more important than tofu loaf and organic beets?"

He looked up at his mom. She meant well, she really did, but sometimes he had to agree with Sam: she was a little crazy. But he had to admit, when it came to Sam she'd actually given him some pretty good advice. She was the one who'd told him that sometimes he had to fight for what he wanted and believe in his choices. And even if he didn't know all the details of what she and Sam had talked about on prom night, he had a sneaky suspicion that she was the reason Sam had changed her mind about being with him. He'd endured shopping with Carly and scary, singing clowns from Spencer…what did he have to lose?

"Mom…can I ask your advice about something? About Sam?"

His mother's face lit up like Christmas and all thoughts of the tofu loaf left her as she sprinted into the room, sitting across from him on the edge of his bed. There was nothing his mother loved more than giving out advice, but it was a rare occasion indeed when Freddie actually asked for it.

"Sure Freddie-bear! What the problem? Is she in some sort of trouble?"

"No, it's nothing like that." He sighed. This was so embarrassing; he was reduced to getting advice about Sam from his mom. "It's Sam's birthday on Saturday and I wanted to do something really special for her but…I can't figure out what to do."

"Well, what were you thinking?"

"I had some ideas but then I talked to Carly and she said they were too girly. So then Carly gave me some ideas but those didn't seem right either and Spencer offered me a singing clown and that really won't work so…"

His mom appeared to be trying not to laugh and he considered telling her to forget it, going to eat his tofu loaf and resigning himself to giving Sam the world's lamest birthday. He wondered if Bobo knew any Cuttlefish.

"Freddie… how long have you known Sam?"

"Forever…at least it feels like forever."

"Okay, so why do you think you need anyone else to tell you what she likes?"

He was silent. That was a valid question. Or at least it felt valid thirty days ago before he'd gotten so confused about it all.

"Honey, you love Samantha, right?" Freddie nodded, "And what do you love about her?"

"That's easy. Sam's beautiful and cool…she does her own thing no matter what anyone else is doing. I love that she's funny and stubborn. I love that she's smart even if she doesn't always let people know, and I love how makes me feel like I can do anything. And the thing I love the most is how when we're together it feels like we're the only two people in the world…like we have this…thing…this way of talking and being that only for us."

He looked up at his mom, suddenly embarrassed at all he'd revealed to her. It was hard not to get caught up when he was talking about her…but he wasn't so sure how comfortable he was talking to his mom about it. She reached out and patted his hand.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about Freddie. Believe it or not, I've been in love a time or two, so I understand where you're coming from. But listen to me, there are always going to be people who have opinions about you and Samantha…myself included. If every one of those opinions makes you second-guess what the two of you have, you'll never make it. You've spent a lot of time trying to get Samantha to trust you. If you love this girl – and, Lord help me, I think you do, you're going to have to learn to trust yourself." Smiling at him, she stood and started toward the door, "Now, hurry up and come to dinner. Your loaf is getting cold."

"I'll be right there, mom" he said, "I just have to make a phone call first."

Walking over to his nightstand he picked up his phone and searched for the number he needed.

"Maddie? It's Freddie…yeah, Sam's friend. Listen, I need a really big favor…"

* * *

Sam prided herself on her ability to stay cool under pressure. It was easy to make her mad…she admitted that, but making her nervous was difficult. _Freddie should be proud of himself_ she thought. _He's got me standing here, dressed like a daffodil with my heart beating out of my chest._

She turned to look at herself in the mirror. Carly had gone into the bathroom to find a lip gloss that was 'just the right color' and Sam was happy for the brief reprieve she was getting from Carly using her to play 'Dress-up Barbie.' She sighed and raised a hand to her face. She had to give it to Carly. She'd made her look really good, without making her look too made up. Her eyes had that smoky look all the magazines talked about and even she had to admit that her eyes, one of Freddie's favorite features, looked extra blue tonight. Standing up, she straightened her dress, turning to get a full view. The dress was black and a really comfortable material – she couldn't remember what Carly had called it. It had a wide neck, leaving one shoulder partially bare and fell loose to her hips, where the material was snug, ending above her knees. She looked hot, if she did say so herself. She hoped Freddie liked it.

"He's going to love it Sam. You look amazing." Carly said, as if reading her thoughts. She walked toward Sam and despite Sam's pleading that she had on enough make up, wielded the lip gloss wand and added the 'finishing touch.' "There, perfection," she said, stepping back to look at Sam. "So where are you going?" She asked. After trying to help Freddie plan for Sam's birthday they'd agreed to disagree on what would be the best option. Now, she had no idea what he had planned, he'd kept the whole thing very hush, hush. She really hoped that whatever it was, Sam would like it. She deserved an amazing night. But she had to admit, she just wasn't confident in Freddie's ability to pull it off.

"I don't know," Sam said, the nervousness apparent in her voice, despite her best attempt to hide it, "he wouldn't tell me. He just said, dress nice and be ready at seven."

"Well," Carly said, following Sam and sitting beside her on the ice cream sandwich love seat, "I'm sure that whatever it is, he worked really hard and no matter how you feel about it, make sure you're nice."

"Wait a minute Carly…do you know what he's doing? Oh God, you know don't you? And it's super lame!" Sam put her head in her hands, "You know I'm not good at pretending to like stuff! What do I do?"

"Sam! Calm down! I don't know what Freddie has planned." _But it's probably lame_, she thought. "But whatever it is, I know he's doing it because he loves you and wants you to have an amazing birthday so suck it up and be nice!"

"Sam! Freddie's here!" Spencer called up the stairs. Sam's stomach erupted in fresh butterflies.

"Take a deep breath," Carly said. "It's going to be fine."

"Easy for you to say. I'm probably getting ready to go to a tech-boy convention, or a model train enthusiasts' benefit." Sam said, heading for the door.

Carly followed her, laughing to herself. She was sure of one thing – tonight would be memorable.

Sam walked carefully down the stairs in the kitten heels Carly had insisted that she wear. Freddie wasn't much taller than her and she was glad for the reprieve it gave her from wearing the hooker heels Carly was always recommending.

Walking to the bottom of the stairs she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing by the door looking like sex on legs was Freddie. She didn't know who she had to thank for the way he looked tonight but whoever it was – she was sending them a fruit basket...and a ham. He looked amazing. His hair was doing that spiky thing she loved. He had on dark grey slacks and a black button up with shadow stripes. The material stretched tight over his chest, opened and the collar and the sleeves accentuated his biceps. He looked so polished and … hot. She wanted to run across the room and tackle him. He bit his bottom lip as he looked at her and for a moment she completely forgot that Spencer and Carly were in the same room. Oh the things she wanted to do to this boy.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice low.

She forgot to speak for a minute, until Carly nudged her.

"Yeah…I'm ready. Let's go." She walked over to Freddie and almost melted as his hand rested at the small of her back, leading her out the door. "I'll be back later, Carls. Night Spencer."

Suddenly it didn't matter how lame his surprise might be. This was going to be a good night.

* * *

"So where are we going?" Sam said. She'd been asking him some variation of this question since they'd left Bushwell Plaza and if her nervous demeanor was any indication, she didn't have high hopes that she'd like his answer.

"Sam…I told you it's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises."

"Not true. Falling in love was a surprise to both of us…and I think that's worked out pretty well"

"Touché. But it better be good," she laughed, but her eyes said she was only half joking.

He pulled over onto the side of the street and turned to Sam.

"Okay, now I need you to put this on." He pulled out a black tie.

"Sorry Freddie but that doesn't exactly go with the outfit."

"I didn't have a blindfold, so this will have to do."

"A blindfold! Are you kidding? I'm not putting that on." She crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Sam. Put on the blindfold or you're not getting any dinner."

She contemplated that for a minute. He knew he'd had her at 'no dinner.' She slipped the tie over her eyes, tying it in the back.

"You'd better not try anything just because I can't see. And the dinner better be really good for all the trouble I'm going to," she laughed.

Freddie leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips, deepening it at Sam's shocked intake of breath. He leaned in and drew her closer to him, encouraged by the slight shudder he felt go through her. He liked this, being in control. And shockingly, when it came to the more intimate aspects of their relationship, Sam seemed content to let him stay in control. She'd wrapped her arms around his neck and the soft moans she was making were almost enough to make him forget that they had other plans.

He drew back and smiled at the disappointed look on Sam's face. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled back out onto the street and drove the three blocks to their destination. Parking, he exited the car and walked around to Sam's door, opening it and helping her step out.

She stepped cautiously onto the sidewalk beside him, reaching out for his arms to steady herself. He wrapped his hand around her, reached behind her to shut her door and started toward the building. He opened the door and ushered her inside, helping her to walk down a small set of steps and then holding her in place as he reached around to remove her blindfold.

This was the moment of truth and he was so nervous he thought he might throw up. He'd worked really hard and until this moment he'd been pretty confident that she was going to love it. He hoped he was right. Removing her blindfold he watched her face as it registered where she was.

"Happy Birthday, Princess."

They stood in the lobby of the O'Haloran, their favorite movie theatre. The theatre showed only classic horror movies, and old black and white romances. The owners – Jerry and Maddie O'Haloran–had taken a specific liking to Sam and Freddie, always taking time to talk to them when they came in. Maddie in particular had developed something of a friendship with Sam, and Sam was very fond of Maddie. The O'Haloran was a big part of the story of how Sam and Freddie became an "us." They'd watched more movies here than he could count, first as friends, then as more. They'd taken their first tentative steps toward being a couple in this theatre and Freddie suspected that Sam had received more than her fair share of advice on relationships in the lobby as Maddie handed out popcorn. He knew he'd gotten an earful himself when Jerry let him into the projection booth – letting him look at the equipment and even taking some of Freddie's suggestions on upgrades.

He knew that their first official date had to include the O'Haloran. He'd called Maddie seven days ago and asked her to help him out. Maddie had been so happy to hear that they'd finally made it 'official' that she offered to open the theatre just for them tonight. He'd protested that the offer was too much – they'd lose so much money. Maddie had told him that it was her theatre and she'd do with it what she darn well pleased so he'd better be there by 7:30 on Saturday or else. Maddie reminded him a lot of Sam.

So now he stood in the theater's lobby, watching with immense pleasure at the look on Sam's face. Her eyes were bright as she took in her surroundings; her face was enough to make all the preparation worth it.

Sitting in the center of the lobby under the giant chandelier was a small table for two, covered in a gold tablecloth, with candles and ivory roses in the center. Maddie had really outdone herself on the decorations. Gold place settings, which he'd borrowed from his mother, were set on the table in front of each chair. He reached down for her hand and walked her toward the table, pulling out her chair for her to sit down. Sitting in his own chair he noticed that she still hadn't spoken.

"Sam … do you like it?"

"Freddie, this is really amazing. I mean, like, really, really amazing." She looked around the table and back at him with a smile. "How did you pull this off?"

"I have my ways …"

"And an old lady with lots of experience in the romance department to help him," Sam and Freddie's heads turned in the direction of the voice. Maddie walked out from the door beside them that lead to the concession area. She had a wide smile on her face as she pushed out two golden serving platters on a cart. "Hey doll," she said, addressing Sam, "I told you this one was a winner!" she winked at Freddie. "Now, dinner is served," she said, placing the platters in front of Sam and Freddie, "Jerry!" she screamed, "Get out here!"

"Hold your horses, woman! I'm coming. You're gonna ruin their dinner with all your bellowin'!"

Jerry came from behind the same door, carrying a bottle of chilled sparkling cider, a white towel draped over his arm. When he arrived at the table Maddie took the bottle from him, filling Sam's and Freddie's glasses.

Anyone who didn't know Maddie and Jerry might think they were fighting but he'd been around them long enough to know better. They were just like him and Sam. They had their own language – but he knew they loved each other.

"Thanks, Maddie," Freddie said as she and Jerry left the table.

"Anytime kid!" she winked at him and linked arms with Jerry, disappearing behind the door.

"So…can we eat now?" Sam asked, "I'm starving!"

That was his Sam. Amazing, gorgeous, and perpetually hungry.

They removed and lids to their platters and Sam drew in a breath in shock. He knew she'd be shocked. On the plate was a veritable smorgasbord of Sam's favorites. It had cost him a small fortune and taken some doing to get it all, but the look on her face was worth it. Pini's lasagna, ribs from Dave's House of Meats, fried chicken from Spanky's and (she didn't know it yet) would all be topped off by double chocolate cheesecake he'd made himself.

Sam dug into her food with her regular enthusiasm and he had to smile as she dug into the ribs. Here she sat: looking like a model, eating like a trucker-and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Over dinner they talked, really talked – about everything and nothing at all. They laughed until Freddie thought sparkling cider might come out of his nose and he listened intently as Sam talked about how singing at prom had made her think about how to incorporate music into her future. He thought it was an amazing idea; even offered to go with her to check out a music store downtown that gave guitar lessons. Sam was really talented and he was relieved to hear her finally discussing her future in positive terms. He didn't realize how much time had passed until the house lights began to flicker.

Sam looked up with confusion from her cheesecake.

"What's going on Freddie?"

"Oh…that means it's time for the next event of the evening." He reached out his hand for hers as he stood to his feet.

"There's more?" she asked and her voice was so sweet he wanted to sweep her into his arms right there. It was amazing to him that she could have spent her life feeling so unimportant that the smallest gestures meant so much to her.

"Yep, there's more…now follow me."

She stood, shaking her head and slipped her arm through his, following him into the theatre.

Inside, he walked her to 'their seats', fifth row down on the right. The theatre was dark but even in the darkness he could feel Sam's eyes on him. He patted her knee and pointed at the screen.

"We ready, Freddie?" he heard Jerry call from the projection booth.

"Roll it!" Freddie called back.

Sam burst into laughter as the opening credits for _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ rolled onto the screen. This movie had special meaning for them. It was the first movie they'd ever watched together – the beginning of them becoming them.

"Freddie…" Sam said, turning to him.

"Shhh…" he said, jokingly, "no talking…this is the original!" he flinched as she punched him lightly on the arm. He turned to her then, wrapping her hand in his, "Do you like it?"

She leaned in to place a light kiss on his cheek.

"It's perfect. Ribs, cheesecake and completely pointless blood and gore…you know me so well!"

That was music to his ears. He turned back to the screen, wrapping one arm around Sam as she snuggled into his side. He laughed silently shaking his head at the thought; most people would not consider watching bloody horror movies romantic – but most people weren't him and Sam.

They sat watching the movie together, and when it was over, they walked together, hand in hand back into the lobby.

As he stood thanking Jerry for all his help and answering his questions about a piece of new project equipment he'd recently purchased, Sam walked over to where Maddie stood smiling at them.

"So things are good?" Maddie asked her.

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling so hard she thought her face might split in two, "Things are really, really good."

"You figured out what works for you?"

Sam smiled as Freddie walked over to them, wrapping an arm around her waist. She looked back at Maddie.

"Yeah … I think we did."

The ride home was quiet; the sort of warm, comfortable silence shared only by those whose closeness requires no words. Freddie glanced over at Sam who sat still beside him. The moonlight filtering into the car cast half her face in shadow as she stared out into the night; a small contented smile playing on her lips.

She was beautiful. And he was struck by the perfection of this moment. In all the time they'd known each other there had been so many wasted words. Things said because of hurt or anger, things left unsaid because of fear. But somehow, even in the middle of drama that had nearly ripped them apart, they'd arrived here. In this place – this moment where words weren't needed, because the most important ones had been spoken, believed and remembered.

_I love you. I trust you. I'm not going anywhere._

He loved her, and she loved him. The rest of the world was yet to be convinced but he and Sam knew it now. It was no longer an idea, easily held and just as easily released. They were going to have problems, he was certain of that. Arguments, issues and drama that made it easier to run and hide than to stay and fight. But he was just as certain of the fact that when the smoke cleared it would be him and Sam; against the world if necessary. It was real, a part of who they were individually and the foundation of who they were together.

He pulled into the parking garage of Bushwell Plaza and turned the car off, placing the keys in his lap. He looked again at Sam, and couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"You're doing it again," she laughed, turning to him.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me … with that face"

"Sorry… this is the only face I have. But I can look into getting another if you want," he teased.

"You know what I mean, Benson," she said, shaking her head. He was so goofy sometimes. "You're making the 'happily ever after' face".

"The what?" he laughed, reaching out to grab her hand.

She turned fully to him now, leaning over the center console.

"You know the one where your eyes get all dreamy and you get that goofy smile. Like this," she said, and made a dopey love sick face, complete with batting eyelashes and hands clutched over her heart. He laughed out loud at just how crazy she looked.

"I do NOT make that face" he poked her in the side and she sat back in her seat laughing as she batted his hand away.

"Trust me… you make it," she cleared her throat as she stopped laughing. "But… it's kinda cute. I like it."

"So you like my goofy 'happily ever after' face?"

"Don't get me wrong, it used to sort of weird me out. I mean… you were just so sure about all of this and… I guess it took me a little longer. But, after tonight…" she sat still as if she trying to find the right words before she continued. "Tonight was so amazing. I mean… the last time a guy acknowledged my birthday he bought me a pack of firecrackers and called me a 'dude.'"

Freddie had to laugh at the memory. That had been some party and she was right, Pete had indeed called her a 'dude'. But, looking at her now, he also remembered what _he'd_ said at that party.

_I consider us really close friends._

He hadn't thought about it before, but had the framework for where they were now begun all those years ago? He looked at Sam's hand, so small in his, and wondered if she remembered.

"It's just… it's nice, you know? You doing all of this for me; making such a big deal, and sitting there with your dopey 'happily ever after face'. You made me feel like a princess tonight." She finished with a sigh, squeezing his hand.

"Well," he said mysteriously, "I'm glad you've liked it … but the night isn't over."

"What! Freddie … seriously, you don't need to do anything else, it's too much already."

Freddie said nothing, just smiled as he exited the car, walking around to open Sam's door. Reaching in he grabbed her and, pulling her up to stand in front of him.

"You," he said, tapping her lightly on the end of her nose, "do not get to decide when it's too much. Now come on," he said looking at his watch, "I've only got another hour before Carly locks the doors."

"Carly? What are you talking about Benson …" she called after him, trying to keep up as he pulled her toward the elevator.

"Just go with it Sam … if you don't love it, I'll agree to be your personal slave for a week."

"Oooo … can that be my present instead?" she replied biting her bottom lip.

Freddie pulled them both into the elevator and tried his hardest not to notice how sexy she looked when she did that. This girl was going to be the death of him.

The ride up in the elevator took four eternities, especially since he spent most of the time fielding Sam's guesses about what the next part of the night would bring. She would not let it rest.

"After this amazing night it better not be something cheesy like flowers…"

Freddie burst out laughing.

"Give me some credit Sam … I know you better than you think I do." He winked as they exited the elevator and rapped on the Shay's front door three times – the signal he'd worked out with Carly.

"You ready, Princess?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, following Freddie inside.

The living room was dark, the only light coming from candles placed around the room. Freddie toward the sofa and turned to see that Sam hadn't followed him. She stood right inside the closed door staring around the room, her mouth open in shock.

"Sam?"

He was nervous. He'd worked really hard on the whole night but this, this was supposed to be the grand finale. If she didn't like it he wasn't sure what he would do. Walking slowly toward her, he realized he was holding his breath.

What if Carly was right? What if he'd gone too far? What if this whole set up was just too … girly for Sam? He took a chance and reached out for her hand. She remained quiet but allowed him to wrap his hand around hers. He walked her over to the sofa and sat down, pulling her to sit beside him. In the background soft music played; a compilation he'd made of all Sam's favorite songs. He watched Sam's face, waiting for a reaction – something beyond the silence she was giving him now.

"Sam? Baby, say something … please."

His words were cut off as Sam brought her fingers to his lips.

"It's … it's amazing Freddie." She looked up at him then, smiling wide.

He took a deep breath. Thank God, she liked it. But there was one more thing. He turned on the sofa, his knees touching her. Reaching over to the coffee table he picked up a small red box wrapped with a sheer white bow and placed it gently on Sam's lap.

"This is for you. Happy Birthday."

"Freddie … I told you, you didn't have to do this."

"I know I didn't … quit complaining and open the box. You're ruining the mood!" he laughed nervously.

Sam drew in a breath, staring down at the box on her lap before picking it up cautiously. She loosened the bow, setting it on the sofa between them and lifted the lid. Seeing what lay inside the box she looked back up at Freddie with wide eyes. Freddie took this as his cue. Reaching into the box she was still holding, he drew out a thin silver chain, surrounded by charms.

He held it lightly in his hands, trying to remember the speech he'd prepared to give her.

"You have no idea how hard you are to shop for, Samantha Puckett," he started, "I almost went crazy trying to find just the right thing to get you." He looked up and found her smiling at him. "And everybody had an opinion … Spencer wanted me to give you a singing clown-gram."

"What!" Sam burst out laughing. "Where did he find a singing clow…?"

"Socko!" they said in unision.

"I got so many crazy suggestions and none of them seemed right. I started to think that maybe I didn't know you as well as I thought I did. But then I talked to my mom and she helped me…"

"Crazy … I mean … Marissa helped you pick a present for me?"

"Not exactly. I picked it out myself. But after talking to my mom I realized something. Everyone else's opinions and ideas about what you'd like or what you'd want…they were based on the you that they know. Those ideas wouldn't work because they aren't for this Sam, the Sam that I know. I realized that I know a side of you that no one else does. I know your heart. And that's what I wanted this gift to say … that I know your heart."

He looked back to the bracelet in his hand, picking up the first charm. It was a tiny silver shovel.

"Do you remember the very first time we met?" he asked, looking toward Sam, whose smile got wider, "I was six years old, it was the first day of kindergarten and I was totally freaked out being around all those kids. I was standing at the sand and water table, playing by myself when this tiny blond girl walked up to me."

"You remember that?"

"You had dirt on your face and a gold star sticker stuck to the middle of your forehead. No one had talked to me all day and I was so happy to finally make a friend. I was just getting ready to say hi when you…."

"Hit you in the head with a shovel," she laughed, "Oh my God, I forgot all about that! I whacked you good … I think I got put in time out for that one … the first of many time outs for me."

"I'll never forget that. It might not be the "how we met" story that most people tell, but it's ours. I might not have known it, then but the blond headed demon who whacked me in the head with a shovel was going to turn out to the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Aww … then it was totally worth the time out," she laughed.

Freddie laughed along with her, running his hand along the bracelet, picking up another charm.

"And this," he said, picking up a tiny silver charm, "this is a bumblebee."

He laughed at the look of confusion on Sam's face.

"The bumblebee is an anomaly in nature. Its wing to body ratio makes no sense … it shouldn't be able to fly. That's why I put it here, it's just like you; it defies the odds. The bee doesn't know that it can't fly. It doesn't care that it wasn't genetically engineered to succeed, it takes one look at a world that doesn't understand it and says "I'm going to fly. That's one of the things I love most about you. No matter what happens, you never let that stop you from dreaming, from living … from flying."

"This one," he said, holding the next charm up for her to see.

"It looks like …"

"Like the winged shoe you tried to give me at prom. I'm giving this to you because I want you to know that you never have to be afraid that I'll leave; that I'll run away like other people have. But it means something else too. I want you to know that I believe in you … in your hopes and your dreams. I know that the future is a scary thing for you, but when it's time … when you're ready to run after your dreams … I want you to know that I'll be right there beside you."

Sam was smiling; a full, wide, beautiful smile and it gave him the courage to continue.

"When I picked out this one the sales lady tried to talk me out of it," He laughed, remembering what a bad idea the woman had thought it was, "It's a …"

"A boxing glove?" Sam laughed – he knew she understood.

"We've fought for as long as I can remember. I used to wonder why in the world it was so hard for us to just…get along. I didn't understand why it was never easy between us. But when I look back at it now, your determination to fight me at every turn has so much to do with who I am now. You challenged me, you taught me how to stand up for myself, how to stand my ground and not back down when I really believe in something. I believe in us, so no matter what it takes I'll always fight for you … for us."

He drew a deep breath and picked up the last charm. He'd practiced what he'd say when he showed it to her and every time he'd had to fight back tears. But in this moment he felt strong and ready.

"This last one, it's the most important one of all." He looked for a moment at the tiny silver box, engraved with the number "1." "When I think of the things you've been through, all the crap you've had to deal with in your life, it breaks my heart. You've spent your life never coming first. This charm is a promise, from me to you. You were my first friend, my first kiss and… and the first girl I ever really loved." He reached over to grab her hand, looking her directly in the eyes. "You'll never come second with me … never. I know it's hard for you to believe sometimes, but Sam, I promise you … I will spend every day making you understand how special you are. I'll do everything I can to let you know you're loved and safe. And for as long as you let me, I'll always put you first."

He reached down to undo the thin clasp, placed the bracelet on Sam's wrist and turned her hand over to place a kiss on her palm. A small drop of wetness appeared there and he looked up to see Sam, still smiling but now with tears shining in her eyes.

He smiled back at her and drew in a sharp breath as she launched herself across the space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace that took his breath away – literally. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held her tight, maneuvering her so that she was sitting on his lap. He loosened his grip and attempted to sit back, but Sam tightened her arms around him.

"Not yet," she said, softly.

He chuckled to himself. She liked the gift. He knew his girl.

After a wonderfully delicious eternity in which he sat holding the woman he loved, feeling her hear beat against his chest, losing himself in her, Sam drew back and looked down into his eyes.

"I love you," she said, her eyes serious.

"Hmm …" he said, closing his eyes, "I don't think I can hear that enough. Say it again?"

"I love you."

"Once more?"

Sam laughed, leaning down to leave kiss his eyes, his cheeks, his forehead.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you … you nub!" She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Thank you … for everything."

"Anything for you, Princess" sliding one hand to tangle in her hair, drawing her lips to his.

The sound of sniffling drew them, reluctantly, back to reality. Sam sat up and looked toward where the sound was coming from.

"Come on out Carly … we know you're back there."

From behind the kitchen counter a mop of brown hair appeared, followed by the tear stained face of their best friend. She mopped at her face with a tissue and tried to say something, but every time she tried, it brought on a new wave of sobs.

Freddie and Sam took one look at each other and burst out laughing. Sam stood from Freddie's lap and walked toward Carly, arms outstretched. Freddie continued laughing as he walked toward the light switch, illuminating the room. In the past few weeks he'd often found himself feeling resentful of the fact that Carly was always interrupting his moments with Sam. But after tonight he felt better – he and Sam had many moments ahead of them, all the time in the world.

Sam was standing in the kitchen, hugging Carly and patting her on the back. Carly stood up, still dabbing at her eyes but no longer such a mess.

"You guys …" she said, and for a moment Freddie feared she was going to start up all over again. "That was … that was beautiful!"

"You're such a sap." Sam said, giving Carly one final pat on the back before returning to the sofa to stand beside Freddie, wrapping one arm around his back. She extended her arm in front of her, admiring Freddie's gift. "But he did do a good job, huh?"

Carly ran over to them, excited to see the bracelet up close. It really was beautiful, full of meaning and love and she suddenly felt horrible for the things she'd said to Freddie. It was a hard thing – change. For as long as she could remember she'd been Sam's self-appointed protector. She'd tried to take care of her, watch out for her, push her when she needed pushing, and comfort her when she was hurt. Sam was like a sister to her and she loved her fiercely. It was a hard thing to see that change, to understand that maybe it was time for her to let someone else do that job. A few months ago it would have been unthinkable that anyone on the planet knew Sam better than she did, but after tonight she had to admit that it was true.

She looked up from the bracelet at her two best friends, standing in front of her radiating a happiness she didn't think she'd ever experienced. They loved each other. They were prepared to be there for each other. And while the thought of what the changes in their relationship would do to them was terrifying, she knew that it was time for her to accept it. Not just accept it, but embrace it. She could only hope that one day she'd understand what that kind of happiness felt like.

"I'm happy for you guys," she said, looking directly at Freddie, hoping that he could hear the words she wasn't saying. "Really happy."

Freddie looked back at Carly and nodded. He understood how hard it must be for her, trusting him with the heart of a girl who was more sister to her than friend. He nodded his understanding.

"Group hug!" he said, pulling Carly over to he and Sam.

Things were changing…for all of them. But at the center of all that change was their trio; three friends loving each other, supporting each other and facing life together. And no matter how many things changed; that would always be the same.


	6. Unaccompanied Minors

**Chapter 6: Unaccompanied Minors**

* * *

Spencer finished filling the gas tank in Socko's van, and got back into the driver's seat. Pulling out onto the street he headed for the entrance ramp onto Interstate 5 North, bound for Vancouver. He was on top of the world, in perhaps the best mood he'd been felt. His artistic career, one that, deep inside, he was certain would flop sooner or later, finally had the potential to take off and genuinely to provide him a living. A couple of years previously, he met his idol, Harry Joyner, one of the most prominent modernist sculptors on the West Coast. After a rough start, Joyner agreed that Spencer's work showed strong potential, and he and Spencer remained in touch.

But Spencer never imagined that Joyner would ask him to join on a project. Joyner had been commissioned to construct a dozen new works for the TDZ Tower, a large office tower that was weeks away from opening in downtown Vancouver. Spencer would be in Vancouver for a very intense seven days of work. While the work would be arduous, and they would be in the new tower nearly around the clock, it was probably the biggest break of Spencer's artistic career. It was also the most lucrative. He would be paid a five-figure sum for the works, and Joyner's contract with the architects even provided an extra stipend for Spencer to hire assistants. This was especially welcome, not only because there were huge amounts of materials to keep track of, but also because the less he handled the materials himself, the less likely he was to cause any accidental fires, which on this project could ruin his reputation forever. Carly and Gibby were thrilled with Spencer's job offer, and leaped at the opportunity to make a thousand dollars apiece for a single week of work.

Taking Carly and Gibby on his Vancouver junket also meant that their best friends, Sam and Freddie, would come along.. Sam and Freddie has been quite the spectacle the past few months. In April, they had suddenly discarded several years of being at each other's throats and become a couple. In the beginning they tried not to let anyone outside their close circle know about their relationship, this apparently put too much of a strain on their new relationship and they broke up in May. Yet that breakup did not last, and by the time school let out for the summer, they were back together. And Round Two of Sam and Freddie seemed an improved version on the first attempt. Their prior hostility easily transformed into physical affection, which had only heightened recently. Carly had mentioned, without going into much detail, that Freddie had made a large fuss over Sam's birthday the previous week, and that it had brought them even closer.

Spencer glanced his sister, who was sitting next to him, riding shotgun. He gestured with his head toward Sam and Freddie behind him and smiled. Carly turned around and glanced at her friends. She was slowly getting used to their being a couple. After years of being a part of a trio it was sometimes difficult to handle her new position; an observer to the new twosome. She knew they loved her and they were all still best friends, but things had changed. She had been in a front row seat for their three-month roller coaster ride, and on several occasions, she had been convinced that the mixture of their differences and insecurities would get the better of them. But ever since school let out, things were different. It became undeniable that they truly clicked as a couple, and that they cared for each other far more deeply than Carly had ever appreciated. Sam had spent an entire night sitting with Freddie in his apartment after he stupidly drank himself sick at that party, for reasons she still didn't really understand. Then there was the way Freddie fussed so much over Sam's birthday, culminating with giving her a charm bracelet that reduced her to tears. And on top of that … something happened between them on Fathers' Day, but she had no idea what. They both admitted to having spent the day together, but neither would say a word about where they were or what happened. _More secrets_, Carly thought.

Carly reflected on this as she looked back at Sam and Freddie. The physical comfort between them was undeniable. Sam was asleep, reclined into Freddie's left side completely, with her head buried in his left shoulder and both arms wrapped around his left arm. Despite the fact that his arm had gone numb an hour ago, Freddie struggled to maintain the position, constantly checking that he was cushioning his girlfriend's head properly, while trying to listen to his pearPod. Carly finally attracted Freddie's attention, as she nodded in Sam's direction and smiled. Freddie looked back at Carly with his trademarked raised eyebrow, and focused back on Sam. Carly briefly looked at Gibby in the far rear of the van, also fast asleep. As was increasingly becoming the case during Sam and Freddie's "summer of love," she would be spending most of this trip amusing him.

They were a few miles short off of the Canadian border when Spencer asked for everyone's passport. Freddie hiked up one leg of his jeans and retrieved his and Sam's from a pouch strapped to his leg. It was extremely uncomfortable, but he wore it at his mother's insistence. It was just easier than fighting her over it, even with Sam's predictable reaction figured in. Sam was visibly straining to contain her laughter—but this reaction was nothing compared to the half hour of mocking she unleashed upon him the first time she saw it back in Carly's apartment. He paused to look at Sam's new passport, including a freshly-taken photo featuring a broad smile and her brilliant eyes. He had no idea how anyone managed to look that good in a passport photograph, especially after the adventure they had endured getting it. Sam knew that the passport she used for their trip to Japan a few years previously had expired, but she resisted applying for a renewal. She gave various reasons for delaying, including impatience with the State Department's paperwork requirements and her bizarre insistence that Momma didn't look good in photographs, but the real reason was that her mother had no way to pay the application fee for a regular passport renewal, let alone for an expedited application.

It was because of this that Freddie had found himself at the Seattle Passport Agency on 2nd Avenue (they waited too long to be able to use the post office) just days before the trip with an irritated Sam – fresh out of bed, with rumpled hair and still in pajamas, cringing as she told anyone who would listen that this whole process was jank and she'd rather be home eating ham. The whole thing had been a nightmare, but it was well worth it later when Sam, visibly calmer after a lunch of fish and chips at Waterfront Park two blocks away, wrapped her arms around him and thanked him for taking care of her. Sam was relieved that no one else in the van knew that Freddie had paid the several hundred dollars in fees.

They finally reached the Canadian border, and after a thankfully short wait in line (the lines crossing the border in the other direction appeared to extend several miles back into Canada) the van arrived in front of the immigration inspector, and Spencer replied to what seemed like routine questions.

"Good morning. Of what country are you all citizens?"

"What is the purpose of your visit to Canada? How long will you be staying?"

"Are you carrying any alcohol, tobacco, or firearms? Anything that will remain in Canada after you leave?"

Spencer's answers seemed to raise no suspicions. He briefly worried if it would be an issue that he was working for money in Canada, and even had the contract he had signed to be a part of Joyner's project, but the inspector did not follow up on Spencer's explanation. There was one final question, however, that made everyone's heart sink.

"Have any of you been arrested and convicted of a criminal offence?"

Carly and Freddie, on reflex, looked at Sam, and the Canadian inspector noticed. Sam loudly denied what their looks were insinuating, but Freddie nudged her in the ribs and pleaded with her. Lying could have them denied entry, costing Spencer an important job.

Sam sighed, giving in, "All right, all right…I spent a couple months in juvie."

"Could I ask what the offence was, Miss?"

"I got into an argument with a Mexican diplomat in a convenience store and shoved a hot dog down his pants."

The inspector snorted. "No, Miss, I need to know what you actually did."

"That was it, sir," Spencer interjected. "I was there when we bailed her out."

"I see," said the inspector, looking at Sam's passport again. "Miss, how old are you?"

"Just turned eighteen."

"So you weren't yet eighteen when this took place?" Sam shook her head. "Under the Young Offenders Act, we don't consider offences committed by minors. You're free to go. Enjoy your stay in Canada. Please remember to turn your headlights on at all times, eh?"

After the bit of drama at the border, the rest of the drive into Vancouver was uneventful, and they arrived at their hotel shortly thereafter and checked into their rooms, one for the men and one for the women. Not that Spencer would have ever allowed anything different, but part of Freddie's mom's stipulation upon his going was that there be no hanky-panky or sharing rooms. Spencer drove them and their van full of art supplies two blocks to the TDZ Tower, where Joyner had already set up their working area. Once Carly and Gibby set Spencer's gear up, there was little else for them to do, beyond keeping close to Spencer with their fire extinguishers. Sam and Freddie seemed to be on their own, and headed back out of the tower.

"So have fun sculpturing with Spencer and Gibby, Carls," Sam said to her best friend.

"Yeah … it's just me and Gibby. We're in Canada-maybe it'll be too cold for him to be taking his shirt off. So far Spencer's been keeping him too occupied to flirt with me. It's creepy. So … what are you and Freddie up to today?"

"No idea, but you know Momma likes to be entertained."

"Just behave yourself. You barely got into the country, don't be getting you and Freddie kicked out." Carly turned to Freddie as he walked up. "Have fun, Freddie. You're on boyfriend duty—she's your responsibility now."

"_Responsibility?_ I'm a girl, not your pet hamster," Sam replied, punching Freddie in the shoulder as she headed toward the door.

"Now what, nub?" Sam asked as they found themselves on a street corner.

Freddie stared intently at a map and got his bearings, as Sam visibly grew more impatient. A bored Sam was a mischievous Sam, and Freddie looked around, trying to seize upon something interesting. He noticed several signs in Chinese characters, all with arrows pointing in the same direction.

"I think we're near Chinatown," he said.

Sam's face immediately brightened as she turned to Freddie. "Momma's hungry. You're buying me spicy pork and rice."

They found a Chinese restaurant within a couple of blocks, where Freddie played the dutiful boyfriend and made sure Sam was fed. She'd had more than her own pork and rice, downing most of Freddie's dish as well. As it was about eight parts chili pepper and one part chicken, Freddie was happy to part with it. Freddie happily observed that Sam tore through the food with her usual enthusiasm, leaving as many bits of food scattered around the booth as she put into her mouth.

As they left the restaurant, hand in hand, Freddie surveyed the street scene. This was a real Chinatown, not the handful of blocks they had in Seattle. Most signs were in Chinese, and he noticed that even the screens of bank machines displayed Chinese characters. They walked down the street some more when Freddie saw the movie posters in front of what appeared to be a theater. As soon as Freddie pointed to the signs, all in a variety of Asian languages, Sam stopped dead in her tracks, enthralled.

"An all-Asian horror theatre!" Freddie exclaimed. "We don't even one in Seattle! Look at these. That one is Japanese, there's Korean, Chinese—probably Hong Kong—and even one from Thailand." He turned and looked at Sam. "Asian horror is better than ours, you know. A lot of our movies are just remakes of the Asian films. Why don't you watch them?"

"They're not in English, they're in Asian!" Sam shot back. "You have to read those … things …"

"Subtitles."

"_Things_ … down at the bottom. It takes my eyes away from the blood!"

"So are we going in or not?"

They ventured inside, Sam dragging Freddie by the arm. The place was far from the O'Haloran. It looked like a new facility, with brand new furnishings, and a computerized self-service ticket window. It also featured five screens showing five different movies … none of which they knew, and none of whose posters they were able to read.

"Okay …" Freddie said. "So which one are we seeing?" For once, Sam, who always knew what she did and didn't like when it came to horror, was clueless.

"The Chinese one. No , the Korean. How about the Japanese?" she mumbled.

They finally chose the Japanese movie, hoping they might unwittingly have stumbled onto the next Godzilla. Sadly, they didn't, but the movie still proved amusing. A couple of trips to the concession stand ensured that Sam had few complaints. Sam buried her face in Freddie's chest during the goriest moments (even though the gore didn't truly bother her), and he got the hint, never letting go of her hand until the movie was over. Since it was still mid-afternoon, and the theater staff was less than attentive, they decided to sneak into the Korean film. Only after it began did they realize that it did not come with subtitles. And was bloody enough to turn even their stomachs. Losing interest in the movie quickly enough, they … amused themselves in the back row of the theatre for most of the picture, thinking they were surely not the first pair of teenagers to make out during a horror movie.

The next morning, they all found themselves in their hotel's restaurant, having a buffet breakfast. But none of them were paying attention to what they were eating. Sam's plate was far too compelling. Carly contemplated her best friend's plate, wondering just how Sam had managed to balance that much food on a single dish. She had placed pancakes, hash browns, scrambled eggs, and several kinds of meat there, and was attacking it in her usual way, blind to the dozens of pairs of eyes on her.

Carly finally had to say something. "That's an insane breakfast, Sam. It embarrasses me." Sam glared back at Carly, before turning to Freddie … whose instincts told him not to say a word.

Instead, he tried to change the subject, as usual making the situation worse. "How's the back bacon?"

"What's back bacon? This ham is pretty good."

Freddie fished out his pearPhone, finally glad to have found a use for the "Guide to Canada" application he downloaded a few days before the trip. It had extensive information on Canadian food.

"That ham is actually Canadian bacon. Except here," he pointed at the phone, "it's called back bacon. One of Canada's culinary icons. I figured you'd like foreign bacon."

Sam put down her fork and leaned back in her chair for a moment. Freddie recognized the dreamy look in her eye. "Yeah, but it's still not Bolivian bacon. This Canadian stuff is good … but it's not life-changing good." Sam suddenly leaned forward, glaring across the table at Freddie. "Hey, you haven't made me Bolivian bacon in a while. You taking Momma for granted already?"

Okay, this was a direct challenge. Freddie knew he'd regret it (he learned early on that nobody one-upped Sam Puckett—he just couldn't help himself), but he had to answer. "I haven't been able to get to the store that sells it. And in any case, I've never actually made you Bolivian bacon. There's no such thing. They don't raise much pork in Bolivia. What bacon you'll find in Bolivia is imported from Brazil or Argentina. I've been making you something called _pancetta_, and it comes from Italy."

None of them had ever seen Sam's face so red. "You _lied_ to me?"

"Well, technically, I guess I did. But you never complained about the pancetta, did you? You ate it so fast you still wouldn't know what it tastes like. And I only lied because the Bacons of the World Club did it first."

Carly, Spencer, and Gibby fought to stifle their smiles. It was rare to see Sam get back harder than she gave, and they had a certain pleasure in seeing Freddie outwit her. And in any case, it was Freddie who would have to deal with her, since she had put down her utensils and stormed out of the restaurant.

Freddie smiled. He couldn't help it. It was worth it. Even if he'd be making it up to her all day.

An hour later, Spencer, Carly, and Gibby had headed off for another day of sculpting, and Sam was speaking to Freddie again, helped along by his having brought the rest of her breakfast up to her room, together with a promise of pancetta every day for two weeks once they got home. He also convinced her to try walking in the opposite direction from the one they took the day before.

It was a pleasant morning, and they were happy that they had been spared rain for a second straight day. For two cities that were so close geographically, Seattle and Vancouver felt very different. Vancouver was a more international city, and it had neighborhoods that were more colorful than Seattle's. After wandering through a place called "Gastown," they stumbled onto a place called "The Eternity Shop," one that seemed to be full of electronics. Freddie immediately started in, only to feel a tug on his shirt holding him back.

"Really, Benson?" Sam said. "We come to another city in another country, you take me through a neighborhood that is passably interesting, you get me actually liking your company again, then you follow it up by wanting to look at computers?"

"Well, they're foreign computers…"

"That only works for bacon, nub, not computers. Come on, let's walk."

"Look, you let me take a look around this place, I'll take you wherever you want for lunch."

"Like you weren't gonna be doing that anyway."

And with that, Sam followed him into the store. It was smaller than the stores back in Seattle, and it seemed to Freddie that the selection was not as broad. The prices were certainly higher. He had read stories of Canadians coming into Washington to buy high-end computer equipment, and he began to have an idea why they did. After walking around the store dejectedly for a few minutes, he concluded he'd find nothing of interest. Then his eyes fell on a box labeled "Explosion," a new graphics package he had read about. He had turned it over to read the back, when Sam yanked it from its hands.

She rotated the box several times, complaining that it was in French. Sam's dislike of France obviously extended to the language, required by law on all Canadian packaging. She found the English side of the box before Freddie could point it out to her, and began to read.

"Dude, this is from Microslush, and it's 32-bit. You can't use it on a Pear system-even I know that! You need to set up a virtual machine platform to run it, which is a nuisance for just one or two applications. On top of that, the pearBook already comes with graphics software you love!"

Sam stopped her rant and looked at Freddie. Sam never liked to admit it, but she knew something about computers and electronics. She figured that as part of iCarly, she owed it to everyone else to have some idea of what it took to keep the show up and running technically. And on top of that, no matter how nerdy Freddie was, she couldn't help but pay attention when he talked to her. She'd seen the expression he was wearing before, and she loved putting it on his face. It was a mix of exasperation, shock … and adoration. He loved the nerd that lurked hidden inside his girlfriend. One day he would make her admit that it existed.

"Ummm … that's right," Freddie said. "So, are you hungry?" he asked Sam, putting the box back on the shelf.

"You making conversation, or do you actually think I might _not_ be?"

"Freddie, what are all these stores?"

"What stores?"

"These buildings marked 'Tom Hilton's'?" We've been walking past them all day long. There are at least three on every block."

"I'm not sure," Freddie replied. "They look like restaurants of some kind. Plus I've seen people walking past us with red cups with their logo. Hold on while I find out."

Freddie stopped and pulled out his phone to consult the Guide to Canada app. "It's a chain of donut stores, the biggest in Canada. There are over three thousand stores, and they sell two-thirds of all the coffee drunk in Canada. The place is considered a national symbol. The Prime Minister even goes into one every day for a cup."

"If you hadn't said 'donuts,' I'd be asleep already. So who was Tom Hilton?"

A few more clicks on the pearPhone. "He was a broomball player, and is considered one of Canada's national heroes. He opened the donut chain shortly before he died.

"Here's something interesting: many people here say their coffee is highly addictive. They think the company puts a mystery ingredient in the coffee. Others say it's just hyper-caffeinated."

Freddie looked up to find himself alone. Sam had already headed inside. He followed her in to find the restaurant packed, even at three in the afternoon on a weekday. He was immediately hit by the strongest coffee odor he had ever encountered. He wondered if his clothes would smell like coffee for days. The restaurant's patrons appeared to include a mix of retirees, students on vacation, and workers escaping the surrounding office towers, all of whom were drinking coffee from unusually large red cups. Sam was already in line, and was looking at the menu on the boards above the cashier's head."

"Yeah, we'd like two coffees and a dozen donuts."

"What size coffees, ma'am? We have medium, large, and liter."

"What's a liter?"

The cashier pointed to a huge red cup on the shelf behind her. It was larger than the large green novelty cups T-Bo had on the shelves back at the Groovy Smoothie.

"Okay, two liters and a dozen donuts. Half chocolate and half … Canadian Maple, whatever those are."

"Double-double or triple-triple for the coffees?" Sam stared back blankly.

"She wants to know how much cream and sugar you want in the coffee," a brown-haired man in early middle age said to Sam. He was standing right behind her in line. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, and was dressed in a dark business suit. "The coffee here is really strong. For the liter, you need four creams and four sugars. Miss, she'll want a quadruple-quadruple in both coffees, please," the man called over Sam's shoulder.

"Okay, if I could just get you to hold on for a second, eh? It'll be right up." The cashier turned to get the coffees and fill a donut box. Freddie finally made it through the line to Sam's side just as their order was handed over.

"That'll be thirty-six dollars, please."

"Pay the lady," Sam said to Freddie as she walked away with their food. Freddie sighed and pulled out his wallet, only then noticing on the menu board that a liter-sized coffee was fifteen dollars per cup.

After paying, Freddie turned around and found Sam, who had taken the last available table in the store right before her brown-haired cream-and-sugar consultant could sit down. Annoyed at her selfish act, Freddie asked the man to take a seat at their table.

"This place sure is crowded," Freddie said.

"Tom Hilton's? They're open twenty-four hours a day, and I've never had an easy time finding a place to sit down, even late at night. I can't believe how people suck this stuff down. So you're Americans?"

"How did you know?"

"Because your friend ordered the liter coffees without knowing what they were. Foreigners don't get it. They think it's a novelty or something, but I see people get sick from the coffee here a lot. I think we should put a warning out for Americans telling them to take it easy with the coffee here."

"Warning?"

"Sorry, I didn't really introduce myself." The man pulled cards from his pocket and handed one each to Freddie and Sam. "My name's David. I'm the United States Consul General here in Vancouver. The Consulate is on this block. I'm hiding from my job for a few minutes."

"Sounds like a job for a nub. You've finally found your soul mate, Freddie. A forty year old version of you," Sam cracked. Freddie looked at the man apologetically. He just shook his head.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Freddie, and this is my girlfriend, Sam. We're from Seattle, here with our friend and her brother, who is working on some of the artwork at the TDZ Tower."

"Nice building. A couple of American companies are leasing space in there. I have to go to an opening reception there next week. Wait, Freddie and Sam—don't you do something on the internet? I was getting this feeling I'd seen your faces before."

"We have a weekly webshow called _iCarly_. We've been doing it for almost five years now."

"Yes, I have heard of that! My daughter watches it. I helped her and her friend record some kind of video she sent you. She'll be upset she missed you guys. As I was saying, my job is to represent American interests in the Province of British Columbia. Most of the time we deal with Americans who can't behave themselves up here, cause public scenes, and get themselves arrested. I've even visited a guy from Los Angeles who got himself arrested in a Tom Hilton's after getting too strung out on liter coffees."

At that moment Freddie lifted his liter cup to his lips, took a mouthful, made a grotesque face, and spit the coffee out.

"I told you guys, that's strong stuff. Lots of caffeine, too."

"Do you like Vancouver? Must be a nice place to live," Freddie continued.

"It is. My daughter likes it a lot, after the two years in Mexico City. This was something of a reward assignment. I had a bad time of it in Mexico. Some idiot in the States put a hot dog—a _hot dog_, if you can believe it—down the Mexican ambassador's pants! I spent six months writing one groveling letter after another to the President of Mexico before he finally accepted the State Department's apology. I tell you, I'd give anything to get my hands on the brat that did that."

At this point Sam was finishing her sixth donut. She looked at Freddie, rolled her eyes, and picked up the coffee Freddie was no longer drinking.

"Really, you need to take it easy with that coffee," the diplomat said. "And you're having it with those donuts. You'll get sick once all the sugar and caffeine wear off."

"Why don't you zip it before I introduce you to the butter sock?" Sam retorted. She was wasting her time picking a fight with someone whose profession was rooted in not letting himself be provoked.

After a bit, the coffees were finished, and Freddie was trying to fit Sam's leftover donuts into his backpack. The three headed for the door, and once they went out in the summer heat, Sam nearly wilted to the ground, saved by the two men who caught her.

"I warned you. Her buzz wore off. Can I help get her to a taxi?" David asked Freddie.

"Our hotel is only a block away. I think I can get her there."

The diplomat insisted on helping, and they got Sam back to the hotel lobby without incident. Freddie thanked the man and steered Sam toward the elevator. By the time it reached their floor, Sam was fast asleep. Freddie awkwardly fished her room key from her pocket, and carried her to her room, opening the door and finally putting her down on the bed, whispering, "I love you, Princess."

About half an hour later, there was a knock at the door of Freddie's room. He opened it to find Carly in front of him. She walked into his room and sat down.

"Sam is out cold in our room. Is she okay? I thought _she_ would have worn _you_ out."

"She had too much coffee in a donut shop. It's kind of a combined caffeine-sugar crash. She'll be fine by dinner time."

"So what did you two do all day?"

"Well, we walked around, Sam made fun of Vancouver's history and Canada's national institutions, she mocked my computer knowledge, complained that too many people speak French, made me buy her $36 worth of turbo-charged coffee, tried to pick a fight with another diplomat, and then nearly passed out and was basically carried back here by me and that same diplomat."

"That's awful, Freddie!" She just knew that leaving those two to their own devices would end badly, but the smile on Freddie's face did not match the horror story he'd just told. "Wait a minute. Why the hell are you smiling?"

"Remember the way you described Sam, your description that made me so mad?"

"That she can be like a wild chimp?"

"That's the one. She's unpredictable, moody, she might just snap your head off … and I never have as much fun as when I'm with her."

"You really love her, don't you?"

Freddie smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I can't explain it logically. I just do."

"She's lucky to have you, and as much as she'll deny it, she knows it. But just in case, I'm about to remind her again when she wakes up." Carly laughed and patted Freddie on the shoulder as she walked by him and out the door.

Freddie just kept on smiling to the empty room.


	7. Sam vs Food

**Chapter 7: Sam v. Food**

* * *

After several frantic days seeing the sights of Vancouver, and managing to keep themselves out of trouble while Spencer, Carly, and Gibby continued working at Harry Joyner's improvised studio, Sam and Freddie were spending a lazy morning at the Tom Hilton's donut shop a block from their hotel. In addition to liter-sized cups of nuclear-strength coffee, which to Freddie's relief were no longer on Sam's menu, the donut chain offered the fastest free wi-fi connection in the downtown area. Freddie had brought his laptop to the restaurant, and was using the service to add some pictures from Vancouver to the iCarly website, while Sam connected her pearPhone to the same signal.

The last time they were in the store, two days previously, they had met the American consul general, who had helped Freddie get Sam back to their hotel safely when she had suffered a caffeine-sugar crash after a snack of Tom Hilton's coffee and donuts. The diplomat's daughter was a big fan of their webshow, and Freddie's e-mail to the consul thanking him for his help led to them meeting the girl to pose for pictures and autographs. The girl's mother turned out to be from Brazil, and the daughter spoke Portuguese fluently. Freddie had shot a brief spot with the girl translating his and Sam's message to Brazilian viewers, and the iCarly site now featured its first-ever clip directly targeted to a foreign audience. Carly had been really upset to miss out on all the excitement but Camila, the diplomat's daughter, told them that in Brazil the fans were much more interested in the whole 'Seddie' part of the show – they wouldn't be too upset that Carly was absent from the clip.

Right before they left for Vancouver, Sam, Freddie, and Carly had been thrilled to see "Brazil Loves iCarly" trend on Twitter. Indeed, the site's logs showed that tens of thousands of Brazilians watched the show, even without any translation. Freddie reviewed the thousands of tweets that came in the span of a few hours, but the messages were entirely in Portuguese, save for the trending phrase in English. Camila had read the tweets for him, and had just e-mailed him a summary of what she found. Freddie already regretted the spot he had just uploaded.

"Sam, I still can't believe you sent a tweet thanking our 'incredible Brazilian fans' without knowing what they wrote," Freddie said.

"They like our show. The whole world loves iCarly."

"Yeah, but David's daughter just sent me some translations. Those tweets were another fanwar, Sam! They were all talking about what happened at the prom. They're either mad at me for going out with you, or they want to beat you up for going out with me. And you told them they were incredible! Now we've got a fanwar trending, it looks like we support it, and all of this when we just got people to lay off the Creddie and Seddie and just enjoy the show!" He stared at Sam, who seemed disturbingly unbothered by the whole mess.

"Meh," Sam replied, and shoved her empty medium red Tom's cup toward Freddie. "Get me another coffee."

"No. I see you haven't learned your lesson about the coffee in this place, yet. You already got sick once. And there's no one here to help me carry you back to the hotel today."

Sam had already buried her nose back into her phone when she leapt out of her seat and shook Freddie's arm vigorously. "Freddie! He's here! Allen Brickton is in Vancouver today!"

"Allen Brickton? _Guy v. Grub_?"

Yes, Guy versus Grub. The show had become Sam's favorite over the last four months, since Freddie discovered it ran for five straight hours every Saturday morning on The Kitchen Channel. Brickton made his name in the food business as the Cheesesteak King of South Philadelphia. This led to a reality show in which his claim to fame was travelling the country to spots that served the largest portions of comfort food and essentially stuffing his face on camera. The first time Freddie saw the show, he sat in awe. He never thought anyone would create a television show with Sam Puckett in mind. He told Sam about the show, and her Saturday morning marathons of _Girly Cow_ immediately became a thing of the past. Sam immediately became a devotee of his segments in barbecue places, and often wished he would visit a restaurant in Seattle. The first time she saw it she leaned closer to the TV and told Freddie in a reverential whisper, "I think I know what I want to be when I grow up." Brickton sealed the deal when he closed one segment by saying, "there is no dish you can't make better by adding a little bit of bacon."

"Yes!" Sam answered Freddie. "It's on his Twitter! He's going to shoot today, at a barbecue place called 'The Big Pig,' starting at one o'clock." Her face was flushed with excitement as she jumped up and down beside the table. "Barbecue AND Brickton! This is the happiest day of my life!"

There was no question of whether or not he was going to take her – they both knew that in matters of food, arguing with Sam was useless. Freddie immediately looked up the restaurant's location. "Sam, it's out in the suburbs, in a place called New Westminster." A few more clicks. "We can take something called the Skytrain to go out there, but we need to get moving now to make it by one o'clock."

Freddie learned that it was even harder to get an excited Sam someplace efficiently than a tired Sam. She practically dragged him out of the donut shop toward a train station despite having no idea of where a train station was. Nevertheless, fifteen minutes later, Freddie's laptop was safely locked away in his room, and he had them on the Expo Line headed for the eastern suburbs. By 12:30, they were exiting the New Westminster Skytrain station.

"So where is the place?" Sam asked.

"I don't know yet. I'm pulling up the address on the phone again. I don't even know if it's close enough to walk."

"Give me that, Freddison. I'll G.P.S. the proper junction."

Fortunately for them, it was indeed within walking distance, and ten minutes later they found themselves crossing the parking lot of The Big Pig. It was a true suburban restaurant, with a large parking lot, and a huge seating area that could accommodate hundreds. A large portion of the far corner of the lot contained a collection of vehicles with the Guy v. Grub logo prominently on the side. When Sam saw the trucks she looked like a kid at Christmas, taking Freddie's hand and dragging him inside.

They walked in the front door, going to the hostess' counter. While waiting for her attention, Freddie looked around the restaurant. The dining room stretched for hundreds of feet, and was crammed with large tables. The walls were covered with a mix of Southern and Western-themed memorabilia, including license plates from numerous states and Canadian provinces. And it was loud, even though the place was just a little more than half-full. But what grabbed his attention the most was the smell. Off in the corner of the restaurant, there was a large black smoker, preparing the cuts of meat to be barbecued. The aroma of the meat filled the restaurant completely, together with a hint of the barbecue sauce and spices used in the preparation. Freddie turned to say something to Sam, but she ignored him and looked straight ahead with her eyes opened wide, hypnotized by the odor and wearing a tiny smile on her face.

"Table for two, sir?" said the hostess, and Freddie nodded. She led them to an empty booth about halfway back in the restaurant, where they both took seats. It afforded a good view of a large table that the staff was setting up, and around which the television crew was setting up its cameras.

"Are they about to film?" Freddie asked the hostess before she turned to leave.

"Not yet," she replied. "Mr. Brickton is still back in the kitchen, filming our manager and the cooks. He's supposed to be coming out here in less than twenty minutes."

"So what do you think, Sam?" Freddie asked after the hostess left.

"I want to bathe in this barbecue sauce," she replied, opening one of the bottles on the table and smearing the sauce on her finger. Freddie followed suit, not noticing that it was the bottle marked "General Alarm." It was easily the hottest thing Freddie had ever tasted, and it set his entire mouth on fire (this was much worse than the meal in Chinatown he couldn't even touch). Their waitress had not even brought out glasses of water yet, and Freddie struggled to keep his eyes from watering and his nose from running as he tried to listen to what Sam was saying.

"There's a place just like this in J'Maw-Maw's town. She took Melanie and me there a few times when we spent a summer with her."

"Doesn't she live in Georgia?"

"Yep. In Willacoochie. It's in the middle of nowhere, but I love it. Maybe it's a little too quiet, but it means they don't interrupt you while you eat all that local food."

"Which I'm sure you did…"

"Nub!" Sam growled, kicking Freddie in the shin. "So … maybe I did. J'Maw-Maw loves to cook. Ham, pork chops, fried chicken, bacon, fried potatoes."

"Those are all your favorite foods, too. I bet Georgia is where you learned to love them."

Sam smiled back at Freddie. This was one of the things that had become different between them once they started dating. Extended silence always made them uncomfortable, and Sam always broke the silence with some sort of a sarcastic remark. But now, they could just sit and smile at each other. Freddie reached out and took Sam's hand in his own, and she immediately gave it a little squeeze. Then she stood up.

"I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be back." Sam turned and headed for the rest rooms, which were at the very back of the restaurant. As Freddie opened the menu and began to look through the pages detailing the various ways the restaurant barbecued meat, he began to notice the country music playing over the speakers. He was never a fan of country music, preferring Top 40 pop songs, but he agreed that country fit the theme of the restaurant. He began to pay attention to the lyrics of the songs, and noticed how they invoked rural Appalachia:

_Shake it for the birds, shake it for the bees  
Shake it for the catfish swimmin' down deep in the creek  
For the crickets and the critters and the squirrels  
Shake it to the moon, shake it for me girl_

_If I'm gonna hit a traffic jam,  
Well it better be a tractor man  
So sick and tired of this interstate system  
I need a curve a windy twistin'  
Dusty path to nowhere_

A third song came on, but he had a harder time hearing it over the noise the technicians made as they started to set up the lighting at Allen Brickton's table. Still, he could tell this song was by a female singer and he thought he made out the lyrics "_the connected generation to a plasma screen_." _Well that's a far cry from squirrels, critters, and dirt paths_, Freddie thought to himself. _Nice voice, though_, his mind continued, when the sight of three girls his age sitting at the table next to him caught his eye. Freddie had never been the sort to chase a lot of girls, and being with Sam made him even less inclined, but he had to admit that these three women were very attractive, one blonde, one brunette, and one redhead. He didn't mean to stare, and cursed to himself when he made direct eye contact with the redhead, who visibly blushed.

Just then he noticed Sam had emerged from the rest room and was headed for their booth, and he quietly began to panic. He knew that the flip side of Sam's insecurities was her excessive jealousy, and his heart beat faster when he saw that the redhead was not taking her eyes off him. As Sam got back into the booth and picked up a menu, the redhead pulled her friends closer and began to whisper into their ears, never taking her eyes off Freddie. Finally, the three girls stood up and walked over to them. Despite his having drunk a whole glass of water while Sam was away, Freddie's mouth turned dry as the girls approached.

"Oh my God! It is—you're Freddie and Sam, from iCarly!"

Freddie turned toward the three girls and smiled, hoping they were viewers who merely recognized them, and not girls who wanted to flirt. He kept looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the scowl on her face. She suspected they weren't exactly there to flirt with _her_.

"That's us," he said to the girls. "So do you watch the show?"

"Since it first came on!" the redhead said. "I'm Jacquie, by the way. This is Lori, she she's Leah," she continued, gesturing to her brunette and blonde friends. "I didn't know you were in Vancouver? Is Carly here?"

"She's in Vancouver, but she's not with us. She and Gibby are with Spencer, because he's here to work on a sculpture. We're here to see Guy v. Grub, like everyone else. Sam loves the show." He gestured to Sam, who remained silent through the entire exchange.

"You know, we watched you at your prom, and the two of you look so adorable together. We weren't really into the Seddie and Creddie stuff like some of our friends were, but once we saw you were dating, we were hooked. Congratulations!"

"Well, thanks very much." Freddie felt a little tongue-tied at hearing that. He and Sam had endured their friends' reaction to their becoming a couple, but this was his first real encounter with a fan who had watched them reconcile on a computer screen. He glanced over at Sam and gripped her hand more tightly, and he noticed that she looked like she was seconds away from pouncing on the three girls.

"Hi, Sam!" the brunette said, not appreciating how deeply Sam was annoyed by the attention they were paying to Freddie.

"Yeah, it was good to meet you. We're going to eat now," she replied, looking down at her menu.

"So are you guys on the show today?" asked the redhead, missing Sam's message. "Allen Brickton always has celebrities on the show to do the eating challenges with him."

That brought out the Sam he knew and loved and she threw her menu to the table, leaning toward the girls who looked just the tiniest bit scared. Excited Sam had that effect on people. "The eating challenge! I forgot about that! Where is he? We can be on it!" Sam yelled at the girls.

Freddie reflexively put his hand on Sam's, but his attention turned to the blonde girl, who he saw running into the part of the restaurant where the cameras were being installed. She talked to a few people until she found someone apparently in charge, and she pointed excitedly at where he and Sam were sitting. She started back in their direction, with the producer in tow.

The middle-aged producer came toward Freddie and extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Mike Sharpton. I direct and produce Guy v. Grub. Your friend here says the two of you do a webshow. So you have experience in front of a camera?"

"She does," said Freddie, gesturing at Sam. "She co-hosts the show. I'm the technical producer. Sam loves the show, and wanted to come to see it made. She also loves a good barbecue."

"That's really interesting. Would the two of you be interested in being on the show? Come on over to the other side where we can talk and I can show you what we've set up."

Freddie was about to get up when he felt a sharp tug on his right arm. He looked across the table at Sam, whose eyes were still shooting knives at him.

"What's wrong, Princess?"

"What was _that_ all about?"

"An eating contest where you can have all the meat you want."

"No, I come back to find those three girls all over like _you're_ on the menu."

"Sam, they noticed the two of us, not just me. Isn't it kind of neat that we come to another country and people recognize us because they watch our show? And that they saw prom and think we're a cute couple? I like it that they recognized _us_."

"Benson, I don't do cute. And if you think Mama's not enough woman for you, you might not be too cute either when I'm done. Let's go."

Freddie still felt the tension in Sam's hand as she started to pull him in the direction of the crew's lights. They arrived at the large round table that the stage crew had set up, and noticed that it had four places.

"Why four places?" Freddie asked Sharpton.

"The Big Pig's special is for two teams of two. Each side gets a plate with five kinds of meat, two large baked potatoes, and half a kilo of creamy cole slaw. Whoever eats more in an hour wins."

"So I have to eat too?" Suddenly he felt a little less confident. Not that he didn't like to eat, but if he had any part in Sam losing this contest he might not make it back to the hotel in one piece.

"Well, you'll get more of it down if both of you eat."

"What kinds of meat will there be?" Sam interrupted.

"Beef brisket, pulled pork, pulled chicken, a full slab of ribs, and, the _pièce de résistance_, a five-pound ham."

Sam bounced up and down in her Converse. "Benson, if you get in the way of me enjoying this little platter from heaven, I'm unretiring the butter sock. Got it?"

"Yeah," Freddie said sourly. Just as he thought. He dreaded what his mother would think when she saw this later on. He dreaded how he would feel an hour into the future even more. He then looked up and saw a huge Pacific Islander in front of him. The man was close to seven feet tall, and every dimension in his body was huge.

The producer stepped into Freddie's view and said, "Freddie, this is Maile Tautalailagi. He'll be Mr. Brickton's teammate today."

He had to eat more than _him_? This was insane! "How are you?" Freddie asked, shaking the giant's hand.

"I hear you're from Seattle. I was a lineman with the Cobras for four years. Now I'm playing football here, for the British Columbia Pumas."

Freddie whipped out his phone as Sam continued talking to Maile, and sent Spencer a text, hoping he'd be looking at his phone.

_Spence, did u meet a Maile Tautalailagi at Cobra tryout?_

A response came in less than a minute.

_Samoan dude! Guy is huuuge! Can't block for chizz but never saw anybody eat so much. Sam is nothing next to him!_

_We've been set up_, Freddie realized.

Sam, meanwhile, had finished talking to their gargantuan opponent and was getting settled in. She had five bottles of barbecue sauce positioned around her plate, and was toying with … well, caressing, really … a large serving fork that was part of the table setting. Her eyes lit up and she leapt from the chair to run over to another burly man that Freddie recognized as Allen Brickton.

"Hi, Allen Brickton," the man said, turning from Sam and grabbing Freddie's hand. "So you have a show of your own?"

"Yes, we do it live every week on the internet down in Seattle. It's called iCarly."

"I'm going to be in Seattle in two weeks."

"Really? We'd love to have you on the show to talk about Guy v. Grub. Maybe you could do a cooking demonstration."

"I'd love that!" Brickton replied. "You already met Mike Sharpton? Tell him about Seattle, and he'll do all the arrangements. So you're the barbecue fan?"

"No, that would be Sam, my girlfriend." He really did love saying that word. "Her family is originally from southern Georgia, so she was raised on barbecue."

Brickton looked over at Sam and grinned. "_She's_ your team's big eater?" He elbowed the Samoan, and gestured at Sam. He swore he heard the larger man reply _this little blonde's gonna beat us?_

"I wouldn't underestimate the 'little blonde,'" Freddie said. "She's been known to make grown men cry." His eyes were steely but his opponents continued to look amused. Now Freddie was mad. He wasn't just going to enjoy watching Sam beat these guys. He was looking forward to helping them.

With the four of them seated, the servers began to bring out huge piles of food, each team needing two platters to hold all its meat, plus other plates for the potatoes and coleslaw. As the plates landed on the table, Freddie looked across at Brickton mugging for the cameras and yelling trash talk to the jeering crowd. He then looked at Sam and at Tautalailagi. They both looked determined. He saw the same gleam that Sam had in her eyes when sitting down to a plate of bacon in Carly's apartment.

As the restaurant's owner raised a whistle to his mouth, Freddie reflexively counted to himself, _in 5, 4, 3, 2, …_

Game on.

Freddie expected Sam to grab the ham when the whistle blew, but she went for the pulled chicken and pork instead, grabbing handfuls of each from the platter and putting them in her mouth. It seemed disgusting, but he noticed that the other side was foregoing utensils as well. Freddie figured that there were no points for neatness or table manners, so he grabbed the rack of ribs and began tearing. This was actually a treat. He never got to eat things like barbecue around his mother, and he could never ignore decorum when she was present. He also had missed breakfast that morning, and did not realize how hungry he was until he began to eat.

Fifteen minutes into the competition, he was surprised to see that the two sides were even. Freddie had reduced the slab of ribs to a pile of bones, and Sam had finished off the chicken and pork and turned to the ham. Freddie grabbed the beef brisket, also pre-sliced so he could eat with his hands. He also took the plate of cole slaw, figuring that the moisture would offset the beef's dryness and keep the food going down his throat. The beef was indeed bulkier than the ribs, but by the forty-minute mark, all he and Sam had left were their potatoes and the remainder of Sam's ham.

Sam glanced at the empty plates in front of Freddie, and said through her full mouth, "Where did you learn to put away food like that, nub?"

Between bites Freddie replied, "Same time the voice changed! Come on, I'm a teenage boy." He never ate like this in front of Sam, not for lack of an appetite, but because she usually helped herself to anything he was eating. For once, they were eating as a team, not fighting over their food.

And with that thought, another first took place. Sam cut a large piece of ham from her plate, and put it onto his. "We have to get this thing finished. They're almost done." And it was true. Brickton and the football player were almost finished, and were down to one pile of meat, the potatoes and cole slaw gone.

As the clock passed 50 minutes, Freddie began to despair. Despite having Sam Puckett on his team, he couldn't keep up with two guys who essentially ate for a living. The two of them were going to finish first. His own stomach felt like it was about to burst, and he was at the point where he'd be content never to see ham again in his life. But he noticed unusual expressions creep over Brickton's and Tautalailagi's faces, and their eyelids began to droop. It became more pronounced over Freddie's next few bites, and the two of them suddenly dropped back in their seats, fast asleep, forks still in their hands.

"Hey, they're in a food coma!" one of the spectators shouted. And it seemed they'd be asleep for a while. The opportunity to come from behind to win gave Freddie and Sam a second wind, and they finished off the ham just as the bell rang to indicate that the 60 minutes were up.

Sam leapt from her chair, her fists raised in victory. As Freddie stood up much more slowly, stiffly and with a bit of pain in his midsection, Sam pulled a small black marker from her back pocket, leaned over, and began to draw an … image … on Brickton's forehead. The very same thing that she put on Gibby's forehead at the lock-in a year previously.

"Stop tape! Stop! Stop!" screamed the producer, waving his arms before the cameras. He turned to Sam and glared. "Now we can't use this tape at all! Asleep with THAT on his forehead? This won't even be aired! Why did you do that?"

"Because it's funny," Sam smiled, aiming her phone and snapping Brickton's picture.

Freddie sighed, and tried to nudge Sam away from the table. The restaurant's owner came over to them with a dejected expression, practically throwing caps and t-shirts with I WON THE BIG PIG CHALLENGE emblazoned across the front at them and storming away.

Sam seemed oblivious to it all, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. They walked to the front door, using the commotion around the sleeping men as cover to slip out the door. They walked down the street in silence, going to the Skytrain station and getting a train headed back downtown.

Once they were seated on the train, Freddie turned to Sam and asked, "What did you do to them, Puckett?"

With a big grin, Sam reached into her purse and pulled out tiny glass bottle. "This was supposed to go into the guacamole at the lock-in until you guessed what I was doing. I left it in my purse … figured it would eventually come in handy. And I would say it proved very handy today."

"Sam, you ruined their show, and we only won because we cheated!"

"Fine, you want to go back there, give back their silly t-shirts, and pay the $200 that our meal cost?"

Freddie sighed. "Never mind." Mama won again. Freddie finally noticed something shining in Sam's left hand, and realized it was the giant serving fork from the restaurant. "And what is _that_?" he asked while pointing at it.

"It's an incredibly gigantic fork. Now I can eat ham with it and always think back to this moment."

"On top of everything else, you stole their fork? Why, Sam?"

"Because I liked it and I didn't _have_ one, okay?"

Freddie leaned back and exhaled. He tried not to think about all the things that Sam had done in the last hour. They were lucky not to be in trouble, and maybe they still would be—everyone in that restaurant knew they were from iCarly. As he fumed, he felt Sam lean against him and lay her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and sighed.

"He was going to come onto iCarly, too. He could have been one of our biggest guest stars." Sam chuckled and moved against him more tightly. Freddie laughed back at her. "You're gonna get me put in jail one of these days, you know."

"I'm just showing you how to enjoy life, dork."

"I should be embarrassed as anything today, but yeah, I had a good time. I don't think I ever saw as much joy on your face as when you were shoveling that meat in your mouth."

"Joy is my middle name."

"Okay, that has to be worse than any joke I've ever told you…" He looked over and saw that Sam was still smiling. "I love you, you know that?"

"I sometimes get that idea … and I love you too."

Freddie kissed Sam's forehead, and they snuggled more deeply into their seat as they watched the suburbs pass by.

"Hey nub?"

"Hmmm?"

"Where are we going for dinner?"


	8. Beaches, Bikinis and Biceps

**Chapter 8: Beaches, Bikinis & Biceps**

* * *

Summer vacation. Other than 'free food' and 'charges dropped,' there weren't many other words that made her as happy. Every year, these three months made going to school every day…well almost every day, worth it. This summer, in particular, had been the best she'd had yet. There was one reason why, and he was currently calling her.

She stretched lazily and smiled as she picked up her phone.

"Talk to me."

"Well good morning to you too, Princess!"

"You're such a sap."

"Yes, and a nub and a dork. Are we playing 'state the obvious'?"

"Yep. So while we're at it…you also have a habit of calling me too early in the morning."

"Sam, it's noon!"

"That's what I said, too early."

"Well, now that you're up, get dressed. I'm on my way over."

Sam rolled over and stretched like a cat, scratching absentmindedly at her stomach.

"Ugh, why do I have to get dressed? Let's just stay in our P.J.'s."

"Can't swim in your P.J.'s."

"Last time I checked, there wasn't a pool in my living room, so we should be okay." She laughed

"We're not hanging out in your living room. We're going to the beach."

"We, me and you? Or we…"

"Me, you, Carly, Spencer, Gibby and a few other people. Like a party."

"And when did this party get planned?"

"While you were asleep and the rest of the world was awake, now get a move on Puckett. I'm almost there."

"Fine, fine," She sighed. "I'm up. I'll meet out front in 30."

"Thirty minutes?"

"Mama's worth the wait," she said, landing a loud kiss on the receiver before cutting off the call.

She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and smiled to herself. Reaching up, she released a tumble of blond curls from the elastic band she'd secured them with before she went to sleep. She ran a hand through her tangled locks, trying to decide what to do with them. Seattle had been in the grip of an insane heat wave since they'd returned from Vancouver. If she wore it down, she'd be at least ten degrees hotter than anyone else on the beach, but Freddie liked it down – so down it would be.

'_My how things change_' she thought to herself as she headed toward the bathroom. She was passing up her own comfort in favor of making her boyfriend drool. Boyfriend. She could actually say the word now without so much as a shudder. She had a boyfriend-a pretty amazing one, though she'd never be the sort of girl who went around announcing it. But verbalized or not, it was still true. If the trip to Canada had proved nothing else to her, it had done that. She'd barely secured a passport, had a juvie record that almost kept them from crossing the border, passed out from a sugar high, had to be carried back to their hotel, and even ended the trip covered in barbeque sauce and pieces of meat with a stolen item in her possession…and he'd still given her that same smile, the one he gave only to her, and told her how lucky he felt to have her as his girlfriend. Yep, he might be a dork, but he was _her_ dork. And he was a keeper.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she grabbed the bottom of her tank top and tugged it over her head, laughing as she caught a glimpse of her goofily grinning face in the mirror. With both hands on the edge of the sink, she leaned forward and shook a finger at the almost unrecognizable blonde in the mirror.

"Watch it Puckett or you're gonna lose your touch!"

The face staring back at her never lost its smile and didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. No, with bed head and flushed cheeks the reflection looked…happy. Of all the changes that had occurred in the last six months, and there were a lot, that was the biggest by far. She was happy, and it had been a long time since she could say that. She studied her face in the mirror for another second.

"What a sap," she said, stepping into the shower.

When she walked back into her room, her phone was vibrating on her nightstand. Holding a towel around herself with one hand, she reached down and answered without bothering to see who it was. It had to be Freddie. She was officially late. Freddie hated to be late; she blamed it on his living with Crazy all these years. _'When it comes to manners, it's a crime, for you to not show up on time'_ was his mother's mantra – just another of the things that convinced Sam that Freddie was lucky to be as normal as he was, considering he was growing up with a germ phobic Dr. Seuss.

"Don't get your undies in a wad! I'll be out in a minute."

"My undies are not in a wad, thank you very much!" The consistently perky voice of her best friend chirped through the phone.

"Hey Cupcake! I thought you were Freddie."

"Nope. Not Freddie, but I assume he told you about the beach party right? Are you on your way? What are you wearing?"

"Yes, no and a towel."

"Sam! You're supposed to be there in like twenty minutes!"

Sam shook her head and threw her towel on the bed, rooting through her dresser for something to wear.

"What is with you and the nub? It's summer vacation-you're not supposed to rush during summer vacation!"

"I'm sorry," Carly said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "But Spencer is picking up Gibby on our way and if you're not there when we get there, I'll be with Gibby. Alone." Her voice took on a pleading tone, "Please don't make me be with Gibby alone!"

Sam laughed. During their trip to Vancouver, she and Freddie had spent most of their time alone, with Carly and Gibby busy helping Spencer with his project. But every night she'd laughed until tears were streaming down her face as she listened to Carly's stories of Gibby's attempts at 'winning her affections'. He'd taken every opportunity to get her alone and on the last night there had even tried to kiss her, a fact that caused Carly epic levels of discomfort. You could call Gibby many things, but "quitter" wasn't one of them.

"So the shirtless wonder still isn't giving up, huh?"

"No! And I've done everything but rent a neon sign on the highway that says 'I'm not interested!'

Sam opened her mouth to answer but her response was interrupted by a horn honking outside her window.

"Listen Carls, I'd love to hear another episode of '10 Things I Hate About Gibby' but Freddie is outside and if I'm not down there soon…you know how he gets."

"Awww, look at you, trying to make your boyfriend happy."

"Unless you want us to get 'accidently' detained and miss that party entirely, leaving you in a bathing suit fighting off a mermaid, you'd better stop with the squealing!"

Carly huffed into the phone and grumbled a goodbye.

Sam threw her phone onto the bed and returned to the matter at hand. She looked into her dresser and frowned. She was normally a one piece swimsuit kind of a girl. On more than one occasion, Carly had tried to talk her into something skimpy or frilly or totally not Sam, and every time she'd turned her down. But when they got back from Canada they'd gone shopping and wound up in a store that sold nothing but bathing suits. The puberty fairy had made sure she'd suffocate if she tried to wear any of her suits from last year so she had to get a new one. It took her all of five minutes to find one in her size. She didn't even bother to try it on and spent thirty minutes with her butt falling asleep as she sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair waiting for Carly to weed through the ten suits she'd decided to try on. By the time Carly was finally done, she was more than ready to get out of there. They'd gone to the register but she'd been so distracted talking to Freddie that she'd barely noticed when Carly swapped her tame one piece with the pieces of fabric she was now holding in her hand.

She shook her head and turned around, sitting down on the bed, holding the bathing suit in her hand. If you could even call it that.

_'At least it's not pink,'_ she thought. But that was about the only thing about it that didn't make her uncomfortable. It was bright blue with tiny white polka dots and a halter top that tied behind her neck. Thankfully the bottoms didn't have string but instead the sides were held together with small silver circles. She sighed and considered sliding on a pair of boxer shorts and a sports bra.

_'Suck it up Puckett.'_

It wasn't so much that she was ashamed of her body. She'd seen enough pictures and movies to know that she was lucky to look the way she did. Sure, she'd rather not be so short, and sometimes the curves brought unwanted attention, but she wasn't one of those girls who stood in the mirror and deconstructed herself, finding flaws where there were none. No, her discomfort had nothing to do with being worried that she wouldn't look good in the suit. Her discomfort had more to do with the fact that this was the first time Freddie would see so much of her. It was as close to naked as she'd ever been around him and the idea set loose a million tiny butterflies in her stomach.

The sound of her doorbell left her with no time to consider any further what the afternoon might bring. Closing her eyes she tied the bikini top around her neck and wiggled into the bottom. Even with closed eyes she could tell that she was showing a hell of a lot more than she'd ever shown before. She was going to kill Carly, but before she could begin to consider how to do it her doorbell rang again.

Reaching into her drawer, she pulled out a pair of short denim shorts and a white tank top. Throwing her phone and a towel into her bag she headed down the stairs, brushing her hair as she went. She stopped at the door, smiling at Freddie's silhouette showing through the glass. She saw his hand raise toward the doorbell again, took a deep breath and threw the door open.

"If you ring that bell again I can't be responsible for my actions." She smiled through the toothless threat.

Freddie smiled down at her, his eyes sweeping from her head to her feet. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, sweeping his lips across hers. When he finally pulled away, they were both winded, Freddie looking extraordinarily proud of himself.

"If you think that gets you off the hook for ringing the hell out of my doorbell you're mistaken," she said, shutting the door behind her and dropping her keys into her bag. Freddie reached out and pulled her hand in his, heading down the steps toward his car.

"So, you're ready for this?" Freddie asked as he settled into the driver's seat and pulled away from her house.

"Ready for what?"

"For the world to see us all coupled up."

"The world already saw us" she laughed, "although you probably don't remember it since you were drunk and making an ass of yourself."

Freddie shook his head, "Can we not go there, please?"

"Hey, you started the conversation, not me," she said, poking his arm, "Besides, when have you known me to care what anybody thinks?"

"You care," He wasn't saying it to piss her off. He was saying it because he knew her in a way no one else did. He knew her past the Teflon exterior everyone else saw. He knew her better than she liked to admit, even to herself.

"Well, are_ you_ ready?"

"Now that you mention it, I'm feeling a little queasy. But I think that has less to do with everyone seeing us together and more to do with the fact that I'm still recovering."

"Man up, Benson. It was like two days ago…and it wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad?" he looked her with wide eyes, "I ate my weight in barbeque…it was _absolutely_ that bad."

Sam laughed. 'Sam versus Food,' as he'd taken to calling their incident in Vancouver, had been pretty funny to watch.

"And before that I had to carry you all the way back to the hotel and you're…"

"If you say heavy I will hit you with a brick," Sam warned.

"Of course not," Freddie teased, "Carrying you ten city blocks while you were in a sugar coma? Nothing to it…you were light as a feather!"

"You had help! That diplomat dude helped you!"

"Please! He was like a foot taller than me. That only made it more awkward. Plus he was…"

"He was what?"

"He was…I think he was checking you out."

Sam doubled over laughing. "Are you serious! He was like twice my age at least. You can't be jealous!" She looked over at him.

"No, not jealous. I just…I don't know, I don't like it when guys look at you like that."

"You don't like guys checking me out…but you're taking me to the beach?" she laughed.

"Well, yeah…but you don't wear the stuff that some girls do when they go to the beach."

'_Wait until you see what I've got on today'_ she thought, smiling at him. She leaned across the gearshift and placed a kiss beside his ear, running a hand over his stomach and whispering in a way she hoped was sexy. She was still a little new to this.

"Aww…Fredlumps is jealous. Is there anything I can do to make it better?" She kissed his cheek and felt him shudder a little under her hand. She loved that she could do that to him.

"Kissing, um, helps. You should, uh, probably keep doing that." He stuttered.

She laughed into his neck, dragged her hand over his chest, and gave him a merciless Purple Nerple before dissolving into laughter and dropping into her seat.

"Ow!" he screamed, rubbing his chest, "that hurt, Sam!"

"That's what you get for trying to blackmail me into kissing you."

"I'll get you for that," he said, smirking at her.

"Promises, promises. Now get a move on Jeeves, our public awaits us," she said, smiling out the window.

* * *

Freddie could think of at least ten things he'd rather be doing right now.

At the movies…with Sam.

In his room…with Sam.

On the fire escape…with Sam.

It was a running theme. He wanted to be with her, alone. Before their trip to Vancouver, he'd spent time with her, but usually there was someone else with them. On their little road trip, he'd had her to himself all day every day and since then he'd gotten a little greedy with her attention. It wasn't that he didn't want other people to see them together – if he had his way he'd rent the Jumbo-Tron in Times Square and tell the world that this crazy beautiful girl was his. It was just that when they were with other people he got the 'public Sam' who cracked jokes and played pranks and played the #2 part of their trio. And he loved her that way-he loved her in all her versions. But when they were alone, it was a totally different and very special Sam. Sure she was still loud and opinionated, but she talked to him…really talked to him and she listened back. She told him things she never told anyone else and in those moments, she took off the shell everyone else knew, and the softness underneath made him want to wrap her in his arms and never let go. An added bonus was the fact that in private, dominant Sam gave way to a Sam who let him take the lead, a Sam who let him touch her, hold her, and kiss her until they were both dizzy.

As much as he wanted to be the gentleman his mother had taught him to be, at the end of the day he was still a seventeen year old boy. A boy with a ridiculously hot girlfriend who not only let him touch her but encouraged him to do so. Yeah, he liked it when they were alone.

On the trip to Canada, he'd kissed her at the door to her and Carly's room every night and spent the next hour laying in his bed thinking of what she was doing. Brushing her hair, putting on the tiny shorts she slept in, taking a shower. Usually when he got to the shower part he had to stop thinking about it, he was, after all, in a room with other people and those kinds of thoughts led to places you couldn't go in the company of others. But the feeling in his stomach, the heated knot, didn't go away. Every time he saw her, touched her, and kissed her, it just got worse. He felt like he should be wearing a sign" Warning: Contents Under Pressure. The feeling was wonderful and confusing and sometimes physically painful - and he knew that all of this pressure was leading somewhere. He'd overheard enough of Gibby's endless conversations about Tasha and jocks bragging in the locker room to know where it was all headed and the very idea made him break out in a sweat.

He looked over at Sam, sitting in her seat and leaning her head against the door, her hair carrying on the wind. He'd seen a lot of pretty girls but he honestly had never seen one as beautiful as Sam. And the longer he was with her, the more convinced he was that he never would. He wasn't sure if he believed in 'it,' in one perfect person for everyone. But if he did, Sam was 'it' for him.

He reached out and covered her hand with his, earning a smile from her. That was the Sam he loved. The one who smiled at his touch. This was the girl he wanted to love, that he wanted to keep safe. So as much as his seventeen-year-old's hormones screamed at him to stop the car and throw her in the backseat, he was determined not to rush it. She deserved someone to treat her special. As much as she loved meat, she shouldn't have to put up with a man who was going to treat her like a piece of it. No, he'd take his time, keep up his cold shower regimen, and wait until the absolutely perfect time. He could wait.

'_Not like you'd know what to do anyway_' he thought to himself. He shook his head at that thought. It was true. He'd had little to no experience with girls. While other guys put notches on their belts, his metaphorical belt remained notchless. The first time he'd reached with shaking hands beneath Sam's shirt and felt what lay beneath, he'd almost had a heart attack. And while he'd gotten used to it now, he wasn't sure he was ready for too much more than that right now. Sam was different with him now, but she was still Sam. If they went there and he was horrible at it (as he expected he would be), she might never let him hear the end of it, or worse, it would cast a shadow over their relationship. He knew it would be her first time too, but Sam was good at anything physical – shocking considering how much she avoided physical exertion. He had no doubt that she'd be great at it, first time or not. He wasn't ready to face the possibility of humiliation just yet. Second base was fine with him – as long as the water in his bathroom stayed cold.

He pulled off the road and into the parking lot running beside the strip of beach. Turning off the ignition, he turned to Sam, who in a matter of moments seemed to have fallen asleep. He tucked his keys into his pocket and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"We're here." Sam stretched and turned toward him, their faces just inches apart. "Hey Sleeping Beauty."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Why do you always say that?"

"Say what?"

"That I'm beautiful," There was the tiniest flash of a cloud across her blue eyes, and then it was gone.

He laughed and leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Because it's true. Now let's get out there, Carly begged me not to leave her alone with Gibby."

"You too?" Sam laughed, opening her door. "Poor kid."

"Carly or Gibby?"

"Both." Sam said, walking around the front of the car. "She's horrified and he's clueless." She leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Freddie shook his head and joined in her laughter. The situation with Carly and Gibby was hilarious to him. Freddie had pursued Carly exhaustively for years but he'd never had the guts to do some of the things Gibby had done in his attempts to woo her. Looking down at the girl at his side, he had never been so grateful for being a chicken.

Things had ended up just the way they should.

Stepping onto the sand, they headed toward the far end of the beach. Making their way across the beach, walking around the crowds of bodies already sprawled over the sand..

"Sam! Freddie! Over here!" He looked a few yards away and saw Carly, waving her arms erratically over her head. Beside her Gibby, with no shirt as usual, wasn't looking at them, his eyes instead stuck to Carly and her hot pink bikini. The smile on his face said he had no intention of giving up his quest to win over the brunette anytime soon.

"Hey party people!" Sam said, approaching Carly.

"Oh Thank God!" Carly said, reaching out and pulling Sam into a hug then pulling her off in the opposite direction.

"Sorry," Sam mouthed over her shoulder at Freddie as Carly dragged her along, her mouth already going a mile a minute.

Freddie shook his head and walked over to Gibby who was still staring at Carly's retreating back.

"What's up, Gib?"

Gibby finally noticed Freddie's presence and reached his hand out in a fist bump. "Hey Freddie!"

"What's goin' on?"

"Just the regular, man. Trying to get that girl to realize we belong together."

"Belong together?" It took Herculean effort not to laugh.

"You know it! And I think I'm wearing her down, dude!" he leaned in and whispered to Freddie conspiratorially. "You see that bikini she's got on?"

"Yeah?"

"I told her that I thought she looked good in pink!" he said, looking triumphant.

"And that means…"

"She wore it because she knows I like her in pink!" He raised a hand for a high five which Freddie gave him despite his belief that Gibby couldn't get much more delusional. Half of Carly's wardrobe was pink. "I'm tellin' ya Freddie, it's only a matter of time before she's ready for the Gibster."

Freddie laughed and attempted to change the subject. "Where's Spencer?"

"Oh, he's over there by the grill."

Freddie caught Spencer's attention and waved, but thought better of getting much closer to Spencer if he was manning an open flame. Looking around, he was surprised at how many people from school were here, although he supposed he shouldn't be. Carly was known for her parties so if she got the word out it was a given that most everyone would show up.

He unfolded the blanket he was holding on the sand, setting Sam's bag down on the corner. It had to be ninety degrees easily and he felt sweat already collecting on his lip. He pulled off the grey tank top he wore with his blue and grey board shorts and slid off his flip flops, throwing them both on the blanket.

Gibby had headed off to talk to one of the football players, leaving Freddie to go in search of drinks alone. A few yards away he spotted a cooler and went to retrieve water bottles for himself and Sam. A few of his A/V club buddies were standing around the cooler and he lost track of time as they discussed the newest pearPad version that was due out in a few weeks, debating if its operating system would be better or worse than the last one. Just as he was heating up in his defense of the old operating system his friends all went silent, mouths hanging open. He turned in the direction of their stare.

"What are you guys looking…" Turning in the direction they were staring, he realized he no longer needed an answer.

"Holy shit." He whispered to himself.

Standing next to Carly on the blanket he'd lain on the sand was Sam. But not the Sam of a few years ago. His Sam was a beautiful girl. She had gorgeous hair and eyes that were the bluest thing he'd ever seen. His Sam never really showed off her body the way other girls at his school, and even when she dressed up, His Sam never showed…what she was showing right now.

He felt a groan rippling in his chest. There she stood, facing him but not seeing him somehow. In what felt like slow motion, he watched as she wrapped her arms around herself, grabbed the hem of her tank top, and pulled it over her head. She threw it onto the blanket behind her and laughed as she said something to Carly, who stood beside her. He couldn't hear what they were saying from this distance, but even if he could he doubted he'd have been able to concentrate on her words. Nope, right now his seventeen year old hormones were screaming at him.

_**'SAM HAS BOOBS!'**_

It was vulgar, he knew. And just a little disrespectful; he knew that too, and he didn't feel proud of himself for thinking it. But good Lord, he couldn't help it! She looked like she had stepped out of a magazine. Better than that, actually. And that was _his_ girlfriend, a connection his brain could barely process at the moment. Someone who looks like _that_ … with _him_. She stood there, her perfectly tan legs stretched out, blond hair spilling around her shoulders. In place of the one-piece bathing suit she'd worn all last summer was…he didn't even know what to call what she was wearing. Two tiny triangles in electric blue with tiny white dots were barely covering her as the swell of the most gorgeous breasts he'd ever seen pushed up and out, straining against the flimsy material. The whole thing was gathered with string behind her neck and he felt his fingers itching to undo that string, to see what was behind …

'_Get it together Freddie_!' he scolded himself but he knew it was no use. There was no way to look at what he was looking at and not think what he was thinking. She had reached down and begun to adjust the material and a faint blush was visible on her cheeks. As her hands touched the material of her top he groaned, out loud this time. She really needed to stop doing that before he lost all ability to control himself.

He felt someone walk up beside him, but couldn't get his eyes to budge from the blond in front of him.

"Hey, Benson." Freddie didn't look to see who it was but he could tell from the sound of the voice that it was Terry, one of his A/V buddies. "Isn't that Sam Puckett?"

Freddie nodded.

"She's your girlfriend right?"

Freddie nodded.

"Dude…" Terry's voice was a mixture of awe and envy. "She is like, the hottest thing I've ever seen. Ever. And I watch a lot of porn." he placed a hand on Freddie's shoulder. "Like _a lot_ of porn." Freddie couldn't find his voice or even the energy to do what he wanted to do, which was punch Terry in both eyes so he's quit eye screwing his girlfriend.

"Dude!" Freddie said, finally dragging his eyes from Sam long enough to give Terry a look that said he had less than one second to stop looking at Sam like some sort of porn star. "I get it. Shut the hell up!"

Terry raised his hands and stepped away from Freddie, back to the group of guys congregated behind him, all of them staring at Sam. And Freddie swore there were more of them there than had been a few minutes before.

"Holy crap!" a voice from the center of the ogling male crowd shouted and Freddie whipped back around toward where Sam stood.

Freddie had been a gentleman all of his life. That didn't change when he'd started dating Sam. He opened doors and paid on their dates. He offered her his jacket when it was chilly, and though it took Herculean effort, he forced himself to look her in the eyes when she talked instead of…elsewhere. But right now the gentlemanly part of him was being buried alive underneath an avalanche of unchecked, brain-fogging testosterone.

Sam leaned forward just the tiniest bit and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. He found himself grateful now that she was facing him, but before he could be too excited about his fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you looked at it) Sam turned around, toward Carly. Continuing her previous movement, Freddie found his head moving from side to side, following the sway of her hips as she wiggled free of her shorts, sliding them down her tanned legs. Freddie closed his eyes and had a little chat with himself.

'_You love this girl. You respect this girl. This girl is not a piece of meat.'_

Opening his eyes, he realized how pointless that chat was. Now completely free of her shorts Freddie was amazed to see that as little as her top covered, her bottom barely covered, well…her bottom. Setting low on her hips, the bikini bottom stretched tight across her. Sam would never have chosen a suit like this herself. He specifically remembered her telling him about the suit she'd bought when she went shopping with Carly…this was not it. No, this suit had Carly's signature all over it and for once he was so grateful for Carly's nosy pushy nature he could have cried tears and right now he wanted to run over and kiss Carly square on the mouth for being responsible for the vision in front of him.

Sam lowered herself onto the towel beside Carly and accepted the bottle of sunscreen Carly offered her. All the while Freddie stood glued to his spot, scared that if he moved one inch closer to her, he might not be able to trust his actions.

"Looks like she might need some help putting that on…I'll help her!" He heard someone call from behind him. Freddie kept his eyes on Sam, partially relieved that she apparently couldn't hear what was being said. And whoever had said it should be thanking their lucky stars for that. Sam wasn't the type to let guys get away with talking about her like that. She'd defend herself. But right now Freddie was overwhelmed with the desire to step in and do the job himself. The flood of hormones that had just been focused on Sam now focused its attention on the catcalls his half-naked girlfriend was eliciting from the crowd of males behind him. He felt his hands involuntarily clenching into fists at his side.

'_Great'_ he thought '_First I was a pervert…now I'm a Neanderthal. Me Tarzan…she mine!"_

"Benson…if that's too much woman for you I'd be more than happy to take her off your hands!" He whipped around and faced the crowd. He felt his face flush, his jaw clench and his already rapid breaths begin to come out in ragged gusts.

"One more comment and I swear to God what Sam would do to you will pale in comparison to what I'll do." Thankfully the crowd consisted mostly of A/V nerds and various other social fringe dwellers. No one who would challenge him but just for good measure he took a menacing step toward the crowd.

Then he remembered: the last time he'd let his jealousy get the best of him, it had ended with him drunk and Sam more pissed off than he'd ever seen her. He took a deep breath, raking over the crowd with a final steely gaze, before turning around and heading in the direction of Sam and Carly. He might not trust himself around her right now, but he trusted the guys staring at her even less.

"Go get her, Benson!" Freddie raised a finger in a very ungentlemanly gesture and kept walking.

* * *

"So then he starts going on and on about how nice it was that I wore this bathing suit for him! For him, Sam! Can you believe that? I had half a mind to go home and change right then!"

Sam laughed and lay back on the blanket, reaching out to accept the sunscreen Carly offered her. She wondered where Freddie was. She loved Carly to pieces but she was a little tired of being the only audience member at the "Carly Hates Gibby Show". Honestly, as much as Carly complained about him, Sam was starting to wonder if she was protesting just a bit too much. Maybe underneath all the irritation was just a little bit of attraction. Even she had to admit, Gibby was looking leaps and bounds better than he did last summer. He'd lost most of his baby fat and from the looks of it he'd been hitting the gym a little. And Gibby was nice-alien-level weird, but nice. But what was she thinking – Carly never went for the nice guys. She might just have to have a little talk with Gibby, give him some tips on playing hard to get and making Carly come to him.

Just as Carly launched into another story, a shadow hovered over the blanket and Sam raised her eyes to see a visibly flustered Freddie hovering over her. She raised herself up onto her elbows and shielded her eyes from the sun as Freddie stepped closer. She opened her mouth to speak, but when he came into full view she stared at him open mouthed. His eyes were dark and he was staring at her like a hungry man and she was the last sandwich on the planet. Something about the way he stood above her, his cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling fast, made her feel like she was wearing even less than she actually was. And instead of his gaze making her irritated or angry, she felt a tiny pool of heat coiling in her stomach. He looked hot. To make matters worse, at some point since the last time she'd seen him, he'd lost the shirt he'd been wearing and now as he stood there she couldn't keep her gaze from wandering. Her eyes swept quickly over his face and then slowed as they took in the broad line of his shoulders. The way his biceps stood out rock hard on his arms, the tiny vein that went down his forearm. All the hours he'd spent in the gym had more than paid off and she rested an appreciative gaze on his pecs, travelling lower over his abs and down to the tapered V of his waist, outlined on both sides by hip bones that disappeared beneath the low riding board shorts he was wearing.

She swallowed hard and tried to look cool. What she really wanted to do was forget they were surrounded by people, yank him down onto this blanket and kiss him until he forgot his name. She wanted to run her hands over those abs, follow those hip bones down….

"Hey." His voice husky as he lowered himself down beside her.

"Hey yourself"

"Want some help with that?"

Sam looked at the sunscreen in her hand and smiled as she held it out to him. Turning over onto her stomach she pulled her hair over her shoulder and tried not to think about how embarrassingly her bikini bottoms had shifted. Freddie settled himself on the blanket beside her, still breathing hard enough for her to hear it. She heard him squeeze out the lotion and rub his hands together.

When his hands touched her, she melted into the blanket and thanked God he couldn't see her face. For someone with hands as big as his he was so gentle. It was something that had always amazed her. When they were alone and he slid his hands tentatively over her skin or ran them through her hair, he was always so soft, as if he touched her too hard she might break. No one had ever treated her like that – like something precious that required care. She loved it.

She shuddered under his hands.

"Too cold?" he asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"No, just…" her voice tapered off and she shut her eyes as he began to rub the lotion over her back. She completely lost her train of thought as his hands did magical things to her back. She let out an audible groan, not even ashamed that Carly could hear her. If Gibby was as good with his hands as Freddie, Carly had no idea what she was missing. Freddie ran his hands over her legs from thigh to foot and she was sure she'd died and gone to heaven. Her eyes dropped and the combination of ocean breeze, summer heat, and Freddie's hands was enough to put her to sleep. And she probably would have fallen asleep if it weren't for the other things his hands were making her feel.

"All done," Freddie breathed in her ear. She sat up and looked at him, stretching her legs out in front of her. Freddie reached over and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Sam," he said, his eyes running over her, "You look…"

Sam looked down at her suit, self-conscious for the hundredth time today. "It's too much right?"

"NO! I mean…no, it's not too much. It's…perfect. You look amazing." He said, "and if you don't believe me there are about twenty dudes over there who'll confirm it." He laughed and lowered his head but Sam could hear the irritation in his voice. She reached out and grabbed his chin, raising his face to look at her.

"Hey, do you think I care about what a group of nasty, drooling losers thinks?" He shook his head but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't telling the truth. So she did the only thing she could think of, she leaned in and placed her lips softly against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Let the group of losers watch that! She was aware of screaming catcalls behind them and felt Freddie smile into her mouth. When she pulled away he was still smiling.

"Are you two done putting on a show?"

Freddie and Sam both looked over to where Carly laid, her head on her folded arms as she rolled her eyes at them.

Freddie stared at the back of Sam's head. The last thirty minutes had been intense and he thought maybe they both needed to cool off.

"Not done quite yet, Carls."

Sam spun around and looked at him with confusion as he stood up beside her. Her eyes grew wide as he winked at her and leaned down. She knew what he was going to do but tried to avoid it one second too late. She let out a scream as Freddie grabbed her around the waist and, in one sweep, threw her over his shoulder.

"Put me down, nub!"

Freddie laughed and took off toward the water, running in up to his ankles.

"Are you sure you want me to do that?" he asked, running further into the spray.

"Freddie!"

He ignored her screams and when he'd waded out waist deep, he pulled her flush against his chest and threw them both beneath the water. Under the water Sam squirmed out his grasp and swam off. Wrapping a hand around her ankle he took off right behind her and when they finally broke the surface, breathless and laughing he had her wrapped in his arms again.

"I love you," he said softly into her ear.

And just like that the tension that had surrounded them minutes ago dissipated. Carly and Gibby joined them a few minutes later and they spent the rest of the afternoon in and out of the water, getting tanned, playing volleyball, and eating until they thought they'd burst. By the time the sun began to set they were sitting together on the blanket. Freddie sat up with Sam tucked between his knees, his arms wrapped snugly around her.

Leaning back into his chest, Sam sighed softly and turned her head to lie against his arm.

"You okay?" he said, lowering his face to her ear.

"Yep. Just tired."

Freddie looked down at his watch. It was eight o'clock, and to be honest he was a little tired himself. They'd spent the day surrounded by their friends, and he'd had a blast, but he was ready to have some time with Sam alone.

"Where's Carly?" he asked.

Sam sat up and looked around before pointing toward the group of tiki torches that were being setup near the grill area. He could hear music drifting down the beach and see that a group of kids were dancing. One of them was Carly. She was dancing with Gibby, closer than he would have thought she'd like but when she turned he saw a smile on her face.

"The mermaid strikes again," Sam laughed.

"She doesn't seem to be too upset about it."

"Well, he probably hypnotized her with his mermaid powers."

Freddie laughed and Sam stood up, adjusting the shorts she was now wearing and pulled her tank top on over her bathing suit. She looked down at him, one hand on her hip.

"Well?" she said

"Well, what?"

"Do you wanna dance?"

Freddie threw his head back and laughed. Him dancing? He might be good at a lot of things but dancing was not one of them and he refused to embarrass himself in front of half the senior class.

"Sam, you know I can't dance."

"Come on Freddie, one dance!"

Freddie stood and racked his brain for a way to bow out gracefully. Bribery.

"Well," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist, "We can either spend the rest of the evening here dancing or we can leave now and dive into the double chocolate cheesecake sitting in my refrigerator."

Sam studied him for all of five seconds before grabbing her bag and taking off toward the group of dancers.

"Sam!" he called after her.

"Hold your horses!" she called over her shoulder, "I'm just saying bye to Carly."

"Freddie leaned down and folded up their blanket. When he was done, Sam appeared at his elbow.

"Take me to my cheesecake, nub!" she said, wrapping her hand in his and pulling him in the direction of the parking lot.

"For a second there I thought you were gonna choose dancing."

"Choose dancing over cheesecake? Seriously Freddie, you should know me better than that." She took off running toward the car, "Now hurry up. Last one to the car gets no cheesecake!"

Freddie laughed and ran behind her, even though he already knew he was getting no cheesecake, no matter who won.

The ride home was quiet. Not the uncomfortable kind of quiet but the kind where you've known someone long enough that you don't feel the need to fill every silence with words. Freddie gave Sam a piggyback ride into the building, not setting her down until they reached his door. There hadn't even been a discussion over whether they'd come here or not. It was just their thing. When his mother worked overnight Sam came over and they hung out. His friends kept telling him that eventually he'd get tired of spending so much time with her, but so far it hadn't happened and he couldn't imagine that it ever would. She wasn't just his girlfriend, she was his best friend, and there were few things he'd rather do than be with her.

Opening the door to the apartment, he let her enter first and laughed as she made a beeline for the kitchen. She'd been there so many times she could find it even in the dark. Dropping his keys on the table, he locked the door and turned the lights on. When he got into the kitchen Sam was already at the counter, eating cheesecake with the giant serving fork she'd swiped from The Big Pig in Vancouver and stashed at his house. He leaned against the stove and watched her. There weren't many things that made Sam as happy as food, and watching her eat was, in itself, an event. She crouched over the platter, scooping up a giant bite of dessert, and when she put it in her mouth, she made a contented sigh and stood up, her eyes slowly sliding closed.

"Oh my God! This is like chocolatey heaven on a giant fork. If you'd told me you had this we could have skipped the beach."

"Skipped the beach and missed you in that bikini?" he leaned in and accepted the bite of cheesecake she offered him. "Not likely. But you're right. This is good cheesecake."

"Where'd you get it?" she asked, going in for another forkful.

"My mom made it."

Sam whipped around, her face shocked. "Marissa made this? Are you kidding me? I may just have to dump you for your mother."

Freddie laughed and reached into the cabinet, pulling down a plate. He sliced a quarter of the cheesecake and put it on a plate handing it to Sam before he slid the rest into the refrigerator.

"Yeah…somehow I doubt that's gonna happen." He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom. Shutting the door behind her he kicked off his flip flops while Sam sat on the bed, nursing her cheesecake.

"So what movie are we watching tonight?" she asked.

"Whose turn is it to pick?"

"Yours." She said, "So I guess that means we'll be watching Galaxy Dorks for like the eight millionth time."

"Hey! You know you love it."

"Nope…I hate it with the red hot fire of a thousand suns. But it's your turn so go ahead and turn it on."

"Can't watch it right now," he said.

"Why not?"

He sighed. If he told Sam why he didn't want to watch it she'd surely make fun of him, but really he was used to it so he figured '_what the hell_'?

"I can't watch it because it will just remind me that I can't go to GalaxyCon this year."

"GalaxyCon?" Sam said with a mouthful of cheesecake. "What the heck is that?"

"It's a convention where they have booths and exhibits and it's all Galaxy Wars-themed. And some of the stars show up and people wear costumes." He ignored the grin filling Sam's face. "And this year Nug Nug is even going to be there!"

"Nug Nug. Isn't he like your nerd King?"

"Very funny Sam."

"Aw, baby I'm sorry you're gonna miss NerdCon this year. Why can't you go?"

"A group of guys from the A/V club were gonna go together but we couldn't find an adult to chaperone."

"What about Spencer?"

"Yeah, turns out the parents don't really consider him an adult." Sam nodded her understanding. Most of the time she didn't consider Spencer an adult either. "So they told me at the last minute that they weren't gonna get tickets and by the time I went to get tickets on my own, they were sold out."

"That sucks."

"You have no idea. It's on my birthday weekend. I'd been planning on going for like six months."

They lapsed into silence and Freddie reached down to turn on the T.V. He'd had the music channel playing when he left and it was still on.

"I love this song!" Sam said, dancing her way over to him. Sam really was a great dancer. It was too bad she'd wound up with a guy who had three left feet. "Come on baby, dance with me."

Normally he'd just laugh and change the subject but he couldn't laugh right now. The music playing was a heavy bass and a mid-tempo beat that had Sam standing in front of him swiveling her hips in a way that was hypnotizing.

_Oh na na_

_What's my name_

_Oh na na_

_What's my name_

He wasn't up much on music but he knew this song was by Rhianna. He'd seen her on a few videos; dancing while driving men crazy was her job. But she had nothing on Sam. She closed her eyes, raising her hands slowly above her head. She was biting the corner of her lip and rolling her hips and she turned her back on him. She must have had a sense of where he was because as he watched her she began to move backwards until her back was flush with her front.

_I heard you good with them soft lips_

_Yeah, ya know word of mouth_

_The square root of 69 is 8 something, right?_

_Cuz I been tryin' to work it out…_

Reaching around, she found Freddie's arm and pulled it around her waist, bringing them even closer before he could protest – as if he would have.

"Sam, I…"

"Freddie," she said softly, never stopping the maddening movement of her body against his. "It's just you and me. Just follow my lead."

Normally he might have protested, but with the memory of how she looked this afternoon still fresh, and the way she was moving right now, he couldn't think of a good reason to. He wasn't a good dancer, he knew that, but this wasn't really dancing. The way Sam moved against him it was like she was talking to him with her body, and he was answering with his. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and leaned over her, wrapping his body around hers. He was a little awkward. He'd never be able to move the way she did, but right now he couldn't have cared less.

Just as he began to get used to the pace and the way she felt in his arms, she turned to face him. Her blue eyes were dark and though she never stopped moving and never said a word, he knew exactly what she was saying to him. And he agreed.

Throwing her hands roughly around his neck she pulled him down to her and met his lips hard with her own. Sliding her tongue across his bottom lip she raised her body so that their hips met and began to roll hers softly. He moaned at the friction and as he opened his mouth she slid her tongue inside, rubbing it against his, sucking and licking in a way that made him wonder if the rest of his body would be lucky enough to meet that mouth.

She moved fast, almost frenzied, moving her hands from his neck to his hair, tangling her fingers there before moving them again to run over his shoulders and down his chest then back to his neck again. All the time her mouth never left his. They'd kissed before, but never like this. It was like she wanted to swallow him whole and he was convinced this maddening want for her might kill him, but if it did he'd die happy.

Grabbing hold of the front of his shirt she pulled away from the kiss, locking her eyes on his as she walked them toward his bed. When her knees hit the back of it she leaned her head into his neck and licked a slow soft trail from his collar bone to his jaw before biting at his earlobe.

"I've wanted to do this all day." Her voice was a whispered growl in his ear, and it was his undoing. Wrapping one arm around her waist he lifted her, throwing her back onto the bed before bringing his body to lay over her. With one knee he spread her legs and positioned himself there, his thoughts roiling at the feeling of heat as they connected. He took her bottom lip between both of his and sucked on it lightly. God, she tasted like chocolate and cherries. He nipped at the corner of her lip and the soft keening it brought out in her made him want to climb out of his skin. He did this to her. He made her feel like this.

'_Mine,'_ he thought.

"Yes." She said. He hadn't realized he'd made the declaration out loud but he was too turned on to care or be embarrassed. She was his, and right now he wanted to claim every inch of her. He didn't care that he didn't know what to do. He didn't care that he might be awful at it. Right now all his body cared about was touching ever part of her that he could, giving her pleasure for as long as he could make it last.

He kissed down the hollow of her neck and licked along her collar bone. She moaned and arched her back, sending her hips forcefully into his, increasing the pressure that was already too much to take. With her small hands against his chest she gently pushed him and he feared, for a moment, that he'd done something wrong, gone too far, pushed too much. He sat up and prepared to apologize, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head and think rationally, but before he could say a word Sam whipped off her shirt and reached behind her neck to undo the string holding up her bikini top.

His heart was beating out of his chest. He felt his lips quiver involuntarily, and even his fingers shook. He was breathing so hard he thought he might hyperventilate. His whole body was on high alert, his board shorts suddenly painfully tight in the front as he reacted to what he was seeing, and to what might be happening in this room in a matter of minutes.

If he'd thought she was gorgeous in that bikini, he was altogether unprepared for his reaction to seeing her out of it. Her already flushed cheeks went a deeper red as she watched Freddie watching her. He eyes swept over her as she undid the back clasp and dropped the top to the floor. He was silent. There weren't words to express his appreciation for this kind of beauty. Sam looked up at him from beneath her heavy lashes and moved to cover herself.

"Don't!" he said, his voice thick, "don't do that. Let me look at you. You're beautiful. Everything about you." He breathed. "So beautiful."

She moved her hands to her sides and lay back against the pillows. As she lay there beneath him, her breasts bare, her hair fanned out around her, he felt his heart stop and restart. She was indeed the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her eyes were focused on his and in them he could see that she wanted him, but beneath that he could see that she needed…

"Freddie" she said softly. "I want to do this. I want this to be with you."

He nodded his head but didn't say a word as her hands moved softly over his stomach. She reached underneath his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He tried to help her get if off quicker but as it pulled over his head he felt a tug in the opposite direction.

"Wait, I think I'm stuck," Sam said.

He pulled the shirt back down and saw that the bottom corner of his shirt had gotten caught on her charm bracelet. She smiled up at him, the heat still in her eyes as she attempted to untangle herself. But as he watched her fighting with the bracelet that was, to him, the perfect symbol of what she meant to him,he felt the heat of their moment slowly begin to die down. His eyes fell on his favorite charm. The number one. With that charm he'd made a promise to her – that no matter what happened he'd always put her first. He'd always make Sam and their relationship his priority, regardless of what he might want personally. He'd meant it when he made that promise and as loudly as his hormones were screaming they could not scream louder than his heart right now.

"Freddie?" He brought his eyes back down to her. She looked worried, and a little scared. He smiled and brushed the hair from her face. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Breathing deeply he lowered his head and moved Sam over just enough for him to lay behind her.

"Freddie? You're starting to freak me out!"

Sam turned toward him on the bed and he tried his best not to feel the softness of her breasts against his shirt. Or the fact that apparently she was cold. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes Sam looked on the verge of tears and he suddenly thought of how this must look to her. She'd basically given carte blanche to do what he wanted with her and he'd stopped, with no explanation.

Reaching down he grasped her wrist softly and turned it, capturing the number one charm in his fingers, running a thumb over its smooth surface.

"Do you remember the night I gave this to you?"

Her face softened "Of course I do. My birthday. It was like the best night ever. Freddie, what's this abo…"

He cut her off, "And do you remember what I said when I gave this to you?"

"You said a lot of things. Something different for every charm."

"No, I don't mean the rest of the charms," he said twisting the number one so she could see it, "I mean this one."

"You said you'd always put me first."

"Right and that no matter what I wanted I'd always make sure to make you…and us a priority."

"I don't understand."

"Sam, you can't possibly know how much I want you right now." She smiled and moved her knee to rest between his legs. "Or maybe you can." He laughed.

"I told you, Freddie" she said, leaning toward him, dragging her hand from his chest and resting them at the top of his shorts. "I want this. I want you."

"Urgh, Sam I need to say this and if you keep doing that I'll never be able to. I'm only so strong." She reluctantly moved back to lie on the pillow beside him. "I do want this Sam, I've wanted it for a long time. And the fact that you want it too." He let his eyes slide closed. "God, do you have any idea how hard it is to say no to you when you look like that?"

"So don't say no." She was being persistent. That was nothing new, but him not letting her have her way – that was new for both of them.

"I'm not saying no because I want to Sam. I'm not even really saying no. I'm just saying that maybe it's not the right time." He pulled her close to him as he saw her rolling her eyes, the familiar hardness attempting to creep back into her body language. "Sam, don't be like that."

"How exactly do you expect me to be? I basically threw myself at you and you're saying no. There's a time and a place to be a gentleman Benson…and this ain't it!"

He reached out and turned her face so that he could look into her eyes. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? How much I love you? I want the first time we're together to be special. Not when we're both covered in sand and laying on Galaxy Wars sheets." He ran his thumb over her cheek. "You're not casual fun to me Sam, you mean so much more than that. I'm just asking you to wait until I can show you that. Wait until I can make it as special as you deserve it to be."

Her eyes softened and he breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that at least for the time being she seemed to accept what he was saying – even if she wasn't happy about it. Reaching over the side of the bed she grabbed her shirt and put it back on sans bikini top. Once she had it on she nestled herself down into his arms, eyes closed. They were silent for a while, neither of them really knowing what to say.

"Thank you." Sam's voice broke the silence.

"For what?"

"For being your amazing, nubbish, way too much of a good guy self." She laughed. "And for loving me."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"I do too, you know."

"Do too what?"

She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "Love you."

Freddie wrapped her tighter in his arms and whispered "Will you stay with me tonight?" Sam nodded, smiled, and snuggled against him closely.

After a few minutes, he heard the soft snores that were proof she'd fallen asleep. He looked down at her, running a finger over her eyebrow, marveling at how absolutely perfect her face was and how innocent she looked in her sleep.

He was pretty proud of himself. Turning Sam down was quite possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done. If any of the guys from the beach today had witnessed it, they'd never let him live it down. Part of him hardly believed it, but he'd done what he needed to do. He'd kept his promise and made sure to protect the most important person in the world to him. As beautiful as her body was, knowing she'd given him her heart meant so much more. He had seen other guys in her life treat her badly, even use her. He refused to let her first time be just one more example of that.

It was official. He was either crazy or in love. He looked down into Sam's face before reaching over to turn out the light, and said "Goodnight, Samantha."

Crazy or in love. He figured it just might be both.

Freddie's alarm went off at eight and for a minute he couldn't place why he felt so…different. Then he looked down at Sam's sleeping form and it all came back to him. Everything that had happened yesterday and the fact that, for the first time, he'd gone to sleep holding her and woken up with her still in his arms. She'd never spent the night before, not like this. When they'd gone to that party at the beginning of the summer she spent the night but that had been to make sure he was okay and when he'd woken that morning she'd been sitting beside his bed. This was different. His first thought when we woke up every morning was of her and when he might see her next. The only thing better than that was starting the day with her right there in front of him.

Right now Sam was nestled in his arms, breathing softly, stray curls tickling his nose. She looked so cute when she was asleep – if he ever told her that she'd skin him alive. Sam hated to be called cute.

The house was quiet. His mother wasn't due home before noon, and he thought about getting up and making her breakfast. He laughed to himself. That was such a domestic thing to do. Wake up, make breakfast, sit around the table discussing what they would do today. It was the sort of thing married couples did. He figured that thought would scare most guys, but for some reason thinking about a future with Sam in it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He could see them sitting around a tiny table in their first apartment, talking about their jobs and deciding what to do on the weekend. He could see them in a bigger house with a big backyard with kids running around in it. He could see a lot of things. What he couldn't see was any sort of future he'd be happy with that didn't have Sam in it.

He leaned down and kissed a still sleeping Sam on the forehead, extracting his arm from beneath her head.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Hey you. I thought you were asleep, I was going to make you breakfast."

She rolled over and released his arm. "Well far be it from me to stop you from doing that!" she laughed.

Freddie stood and headed out the door. As he opened it, he looked back to see Sam staring at him.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for last night."

"You're not mad?" he asked, leaning against the door frame.

"I have a boyfriend who loves me so much he kept himself from having sex with me before we were ready even though I practically stripped and threw myself at him. Yeah…I'm furious." She laughed. "Now go make Mama some pancakes!"

Freddie laughed and made his way into the kitchen. He knew that the time for him and Sam to have sex wouldn't be far off. Soon they'd be ready. He could scarcely wait for that day. But until then, he'd just keep her fed…and hide that bikini.


	9. When Marissa Met Pam

**Chapter 9: When Marissa Met Pam**

* * *

August 5, 2011

Freddie walked through the doors of the Groovy Smoothie, thankful for the shop's cool air that gave him a break from the sweltering heat outside. He'd gotten a text message from Carly asking him to meet her here. She said it was urgent iCarly business. He couldn't imagine what she'd need to talk to him about that was so important he had to be there before noon during summer vacation, but she'd been pretty insistent, so here he was, confused but present.

Scanning the room, he saw Carly sitting in a booth at the back tapping away at her phone, Spencer sitting across from her. He made his way toward them, wondering to himself why Spencer was there if this was an iCarly meeting.

"Hey Freddie!" Carly set her smoothie on the table and gave him a little wave as he sat down across from her.

"Hey Carly. Spence."

"Freddo!" Spencer said, glancing up from his phone. "These gerbils are like super grumpy!"

Freddie laughed and pulled his laptop from his bag, setting it on the table, ready to get down to business. Carly sat smiling at him and saying nothing. "So…" he said, "Are you ready to get started or are we waiting for Sam?"

"Oh, um, Sam's not coming." Carly looked down at her smoothie.

"What do you mean she's not coming?"

"She had to do something with her mom I think, so I told her we'd just have the meeting and I'd fill her in later."

Okay, this was officially weird. Since the Fred-bot incident Freddie was content to handle the technical side of things and leave the creative side to Carly and Sam. While Carly and Sam worked together on things, the technical aspects of the show fell to him alone, so it was rare now that they pulled him into the creative meeting. Mostly they gave him a run-down of what they wanted to do, he made the technical arrangements, and then they met together for rehearsal. Obviously they wouldn't be rehearsing in the middle of the Groovy Smoothie especially without Sam.

"I'm confused, Carly. Why are we meeting without Sam here?"

"Well, I thought maybe you could help me come up with some ideas for next week's show."

"You want me to help with the creative stuff? Have you forgotten about Fred-bot?"

"Fred-bot!" Spencer looked up from his game. "Dude, that was SO bad!"

"Not helping, Spencer," Carly warned.

"He's right, Carls. It _was_ bad. I think it's probably best to leave me out of it."

"Don't be silly!" she said, a little to brightly to be believable. "You're an important part of our team. I'll just run some ideas by you and we can talk about if they'll work or not."

For the next thirty minutes, Freddie sat and attempted to look interested while Carly rattled off a list of show bit ideas some of them so ridiculous he began to wonder if she was making them up as she went along. Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he checked for a text message from Sam no such luck. He'd been trying to send her messages inconspicuously with his phone under the table since he arrived, but she'd yet to respond.

He tried not to be 'that guy,' the boyfriend who needed to know where his girlfriend was every minute of the day. The boyfriend who acted like his girlfriend needed to check in and be attached to his hip. And as a general rule, he wasn't. He and Sam spent a lot of time together they had even before they started dating, but they still maintained lives outside of each other. Freddie spent time with The Training Bros and guys from the A/V club. Sam and Carly had their standing date for a weekly 'Girls Night' and they spent time together without him. It had honestly never bothered him until about a week ago.

After returning home from their trips to Vancouver and the beach, he felt that he and Sam were closer than ever. She'd spent the night at least once a week since then and he got a little dizzy when he thought about what they'd done in that bedroom. They hadn't had sex-he was still as adamant that they weren't ready as Sam was that they were. But just having her there, close to him and waking up to her in his arms it was as close to pure bliss as he thought he'd ever come. He thought he'd known her well before they started dating, but during those nights with her in oversized sweatpants, her hair pulled up on top of her head, he'd learned so much about her. What she loved, what she hated, what she feared. It'd been a shock to the system to realize that Sam Puckett was afraid of anything, but such a rush to know she trusted him enough to share those fears with him. She was a living Matryoshka doll, always another layer underneath each one he discovered. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

For the past week she called him sporadically and often when he called it went straight to voicemail. When his mother worked the night shift the other day, he'd called to ask what time she was coming over and she replied with some excuse about helping her mother paint. His requests for video chats went unanswered; she said her laptop wasn't working. He offered to come over and fix it, and suddenly she had somewhere she needed to be.

'_I'll call you later.'_

It had become her mantra lately. She was avoiding him, that much was obvious, but he didn't understand why. Adding insult to injury was the fact that his birthday was coming up this weekend and she hadn't even mentioned it. He hadn't expected anything huge he didn't want a party or for a lot of people to make a big fuss. He only wanted one person to make a fuss, and she seemed to have forgotten it altogether.

'_I'm such a girl'_ he thought.

"Freddie!" He looked up from his phone at Carly, who was waving her hand in front of his face. "Are you even listening to me?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm listening." He said, not fooling either of them. "Listen Carls, I need to go. Can we talk about this later?" He started gathering up his laptop.

"Wait!" Carly looked frantic as glanced down at her phone. "We're not done yet! I, uh, wanted you to, um, explain how iCarly's internet connection works."

Freddie stopped. "You want me to explain the internet connection? You mean the bandwidth for the viewers to watch us?" This meeting was getting weirder by the minute. Carly and Sam never wanted to know the details of what he did—the only time Carly asked about anything technical was the one time they dated for three days, when she was trying to interest herself in everything Freddie did—and he was shocked she even knew enough about internet bandwidth to ask him about it.

"Yeah, I heard something last week about the Dingo website crashing when everyone went to it at once to see a new video coming out. We get more viewers every show. Could that happen to us?"

"Well, theoretically it could, but we have a T-1 connection in the studio that runs the live stream to our internet service provider's data center, where it feeds a server that can handle several million simultaneous connections. I upgraded our level of service a few months ago with our ad revenue, and that more than doubled the number of live viewers we can have."

He stared at Carly for a minute. She was looking through him, not listening to a word of what he was saying. Now he was completely convinced that something was going on and this whole 'be a part of the creative process/tell me about your boring techie stuff' was part of the plan to keep him from knowing what that something was. And if his sitting here with Carly was going to keep him from discovering whatever was going on, then he was determined to get the heck out of here now. He zipped up his bag and slid out of the booth.

"Carly, you're acting weirder than usual and I have to go. We'll talk about this later."

"But Freddie…"

"Bye Carly. See you later Spence."

He didn't wait for her response as he headed for the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, heading home.

He checked his phone again. No message from Sam. He called her again and, as he expected, it went straight to voicemail.

'_This is Sam, I'm either busy or don't want to talk to you. Leave a message but I might not call you back. Later.'_

'_Yep',_ he thought, _'Something is up, and I'm gonna find out what it is.'_

* * *

Sam waited just inside the doors of Bushwell Plaza, concealing herself between a large fake ficus and a tall sign advertising vacancies. In all likelihood this cloak and dagger action wasn't necessary, but she couldn't be too sure; what was on the line was too important.

She tapped her foot impatiently while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the front door, the elevator, and her phone. Not an easy task, but it was small potatoes compared to what she'd be doing in a matter of minutes.

Her phone beeped and she checked the screen.

_Carly: All clear_

_Sam: Keep it that way?_

_Carly: U got it. Good luck_

'_I'll need it'_ she muttered, pushing her phone into her back pocket as she headed for the elevator. The closer she got to the eighth floor, the more nervous she got, which irritated her. Sam Puckett didn't do nervous. She also didn't do begging, planning, or talks with parents, but this plan relied on her doing some things that she normally didn't. Freddie had better appreciate this.

She stepped off the elevator and hurried past Carly's door, grateful that she wasn't home. If Carly was gone and Freddie and Spencer were with her, it made everything much easier. She couldn't afford for Freddie to see her and Spencer couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it, so he'd have to be left out of the loop too.

Knocking on apartment 8D, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. If Crazy saw how nervous she was she'd think something was up, and this whole plan lived and died on the approval of Freddie's mother.

"Samantha?"

Sam looked up into the confused face of Marissa Benson. Just like her relationship with Freddie, her relationship with Marissa had undergone something of a transformation. They weren't going for mani-pedi dates but the thinly veiled dislike had been replaced with general tolerance. For her part, Sam realized that Freddie was one of the few guys she knew who actually respected his mother, so it made things easier if she at least tried to get along with her. And Marissa, who was initially devastated at the idea of Sam and Freddie being together, had come around-mostly. She wasn't throwing parties to celebrate the new development in her son's love life, but she was pleasant, kept the smart comments to a minimum and Sam tried, with varying levels of success, to do the same. But the cease fire between herself and Marissa didn't make this any easier.

"Hey, Marissa." She said, hefting her back pack up on her shoulder.

"Freddie's not here. He's…"

"At the Groovy Smoothie with Carly," she interrupted. "I know. That's sort of why I'm here. Can I come in?"

"Well, I have to leave for work soon…"

"I promise this won't take too long." Sam scanned the hallway again. Even though she knew Freddie was safely away from the building, tucked into a booth, sipping smoothies with Carly and Spencer, she'd still feel much better once safely concealed inside the Benson apartment.

Marissa moved to the side and let Sam in. Standing inside the entryway, Sam gave Marissa a tense smile and tried to organize her thoughts, a difficult feat while her mind was filled with the rapidly rushing sound of her heartbeat. Their newly developed truce was based upon Freddie's presence in both of their lives and without him here, the silence was filled with awkwardness.

"So, Samantha, I have the feeling that you aren't here for a casual visit, so how about you spit it out. What is it that you want?"

That was one thing Sam liked about Marissa, among a list that, to her surprise, seemed to be growing Marissa didn't really believe in beating around the bush, and she made a hell of a cheesecake.

"Oh, right. Well, you know Freddie's birthday is coming up soon."

"Yes, forty eight hours of labor and pain that makes you pray for death has a way of making a mark on you."

Sam shook her head. It took everything in her not to comment on the oversharing but she needed Marissa on her side right now. Making fun of her didn't seem the best way to make her an ally.

"Right. Well, um, Freddie told me that he had wanted to go to Nerd…I mean GalaxyCon this year but he couldn't get tickets." She looked at Marissa who was studying her with a mixture of suspicion and impatience. "Well, I, uh, I really wanted to do something nice for him for his birthday so I managed to get tickets."

"Managed?" Marissa said, "How exactly did you do that?"

The details of how she'd gotten ridiculously expensive tickets to an event that had been sold out for over six months wasn't exactly something she wanted to share with Marissa in that respect, the less Marissa knew the better.

"A friend of the family." Marissa nodded, and seemed to accept the rather flimsy explanation for the time being. "Anyway, since it's his eighteenth birthday and he made such a big deal out of mine, I just wanted to do something special for him so," she took a deep breath, it was do or die time, "I wanted to come and ask you if you'd give him permission to come with me to GalaxyCon this weekend."

Her words came in a rush and she felt heat rising from her neck to her face. She really needed Marissa to say yes; a lot of favors had been called in to get these tickets. Even more than that, for the entirety of their relationship and even their friendship, Freddie had been the one who worked hard to show Sam how important she was to him. In the past she'd never made much effort, with him or anyone else really, to make them feel special not like this. She wanted his birthday to be the best he'd ever had, and she had very specific plans on how to make that happen, plans that required his controlling and freakishly protective mother to agree to let Sam take her precious Freddiebear out of state, overnight. Thinking of it now, she wasn't sure why she'd thought it was a possibility. Marissa would rather lick the park bench underneath a hobo than release her son into the big wide world with only Sam as protection.

Marissa leaned her head to one side and crossed her arms over her chest, staring down into Sam's face. She didn't say a word.

'_This is not a good sign'_ Sam thought.

"And on this trip." Marissa said, "Who will be chaperoning? Please tell me it's not Spencer."

"No, it's not Spencer."

"Well, surely you aren't asking me to let Freddie go out of state without any adult supervision."

"Well, I'm eighteen. You know…technically an adult." Marissa frowned as Sam continued, "But, no, I um, well I asked my mom if she'd take us. And she said yes."

If anything at all was going to make this whole thing fall apart, it was the introduction of Pam Puckett to the equation.

"Your mother?" Marissa asked, "I think I might have preferred Spencer."

"Listen, I know my mom is a little…"

"Irresponsible."

"Right."

"Inappropriate."

"Right again."

"Prone to seriously questionable decisions."

"Okay, I get it. My mom isn't exactly 'Mother of the Year'." It was quite possibly the understatement of a lifetime but she didn't need Marissa focusing on how entirely screwed up Pam was. "But she's really been trying lately and she wants to do this for me and Freddie." Marissa looked completely unconvinced. "Plus, you know that Freddie is more responsible than most adults; he's not going to do anything stupid. And I swear to you I'd never let anything happen to him. He'll take care of me, I'll take care of him and my mom, well she'll just be a grown up presence to give you some peace of mind."

"Peace of mind?" Marissa laughed, "Sending two impressionable teenagers off with your mother is supposed to give me peace of mind?"

_Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words._ Sam shook her head. "Listen Mrs. Benson," she sighed, "I wish I had something to say to make you feel completely confident in my mom or that would make you trust me more but I don't. All I can tell you is that….I care about your son, like a lot. I want to do something special for him because he's always doing something special for me. This is the biggest thing I can think to do for him and I'm just asking if just this once you could cut me some slack. Please." She lowered her head and waited for the _'no'_ she was sure was coming, followed by a _'get out of my house you delinquent, and stay away from my precious Freddiebear'._

"How long?"

Sam's head shot up. "Huh?"

"How long Samantha, how long will you be gone?"

"Oh! Um, we'd have to leave on Saturday morning and we'd be back on Sunday night."

"And your mother is driving?"

"Yes."

"And where are you sleeping?"

"At a hotel in Portland next to the convention center."

"Well, duh, I know you're staying at a hotel. I mean where are you sleeping? I assume you'll be rooming with your mother and Freddie will have his own room."

'Oh right! Yeah, Freddie will have his own room," she said. _And I'll be in it_. "I'll, um, be in a room with my mom and Freddie will be all by himself in his room."

"Because there is no way I'm giving permission for the two of you to share a room. I am too young to be babysitting grandchildren and watching you both ruin your lives."

"Wait…so you're saying yes?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying…on one condition."

Sam wanted to jump out of her skin. She had managed to convince Marissa Benson of the Aggressive Parenting meetings to let her take Freddie away overnight. Anyone who ever doubted her powers of persuasion could use this moment as proof of her skill and general awesomeness. She wanted to run into the streets of Seattle screaming her happiness. At this point Marissa could ask her to name her first born Fredward, or give up meat for a month, and she'd gladly do it for the chance to see the look on Freddie's face when they pulled up to GalaxyCon.

"What's your condition? Whatever it is I'll do it…anything!"

"I want to meet your mother."

"Anything but that."

"Samantha! Surely you didn't think I'd give my permission without talking to her first?"

"Well, can't we just call her?" Sam said, pulling out her phone.

"No, Samantha. I want to meet her. In person."

"But …"

"No buts. If you want Freddie to go, you're going to have to let me meet your mother. We can all go out for dinner!"

This was getting worse by the minute. Pam and Marissa in the same room? They Mayans would surely consider that a sign of the pending apocalypse.

"But it'll ruin the surprise!"

"I won't ruin the surprise."

"If we're all suddenly having dinner together, he's gonna know something's up!"

Marissa grabbed her bag from the side table and reached over to open the door. "I'm sorry, but this is not up for discussion. If you want me to say yes then you're going to have to deal with my conditions." She put a hand on Sam's shoulder and turned her towards the door. "Now I have get to work." She locked the door and turned to face Sam who was standing in the hallway still trying to find a way to change Marissa's mind. "Samantha, don't look so upset. It won't be so terrible, will it? We'll have some dinner, I'll talk to your mom and your secret will stay safe. Trust me, it'll be fine."

"What will be fine?"

'_Oh, shit!'_ Sam thought turning towards the stairwell Freddie had just walked from.

Sam and Marissa looked at each other and then back at Freddie.

"Freddiebear! I was just talking to Samantha here about us all getting together for dinner this week."

Freddie looked confused as he walked over to stand beside Sam.

"All of us?"

"Yes. You, me, Samantha, and her mother."  
Freddie, who'd been taking a sip of his smoothie, choked on it, sending bits of blue slush and fruit chunks onto the floor in front of him.

"Freddie honey, be careful." Marissa, pulling napkin from her purse and handing it to Freddie. "If you and Samantha are going to be dating, I think it's time that I met her mother. So we're all going out to dinner Wednesday night." She looked at Sam and there was suddenly a new item to add to the _'Marissa isn't so bad after all'_ list. She was a really great liar. "Now I've got to work. Behave yourselves. Feet stay on the ground and Samantha goes home before midnight."

"Yeah, sure mom." Freddie trained his eyes on Sam's face as his mother entered the elevator and gave Sam a wink that Freddie was too busy to see. "So what the hell was that all about?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I've been texting you for like an hour, Carly says she doesn't know where you are, then I come home and you're having private conversations with my mom? And dinner? With my mom and _your_ mom? This is like some alternate universe!"

"Calm down, Freddie. It's not that big of a deal. I was at the, uh, doctor's office with my mom so my phone was turned off and I didn't see you text. I came over here after and your mom saw me and we talked and she wants to meet my mom. Probably wants to make sure that you're not dating the daughter of a psychopath. Which is a problem…cuz you kind of are."

Sam prayed that her unchallenged skills at bending the truth were working. Freddie had gotten used to the craziness that was sometimes her life, but he'd also gotten used to what she looked like when she lied. She could only hope that between the two of them, she and Marissa had played it off well enough for him not to ask questions.

Freddie shrugged and leaned into kiss her cheek. "Your mom isn't a psychopath. She's just…well, she's just got issues."

"Yeah, just like the world's fattest priest has a little weight problem," she laughed.

"So," he said, pulling her into a hug. "I missed you." He stepped back and pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocking the front door. Opening it, he looked back to see that Sam hadn't followed him. "Aren't you coming in?"

Sam considered her options. Marissa was gone for the night, which meant an overnight with Freddie. And after spending so many nights with him recently during which they seemed to be playing a game of "how far can you go?" she wasn't sure she could take another night of it without tossing her plans and ravaging him right there on the Galaxy Wars bedsheets with Nug Nug staring down from his wall poster. She had the 'Puckett Drive' as her mother called it. They weren't much for being chaste and innocent and when she was in the bed with Freddie, she felt the limits of all her will power tested. No, she couldn't spend the night tonight. Or any night before they left.

She really was the guy in this relationship.

"Um, no, I've got a, uh… a thing to do."

"A thing?"

"Yeah. I've got to help my mom with something." She leaned in and kissed him quickly before he could protest. "I'll call you later though." She headed for the elevator, turning once inside to see that Freddie was still standing in the hallway staring at her, his face filled with confusion. She waved as the doors shut and breathed a sigh of relief as she slumped against the elevator wall.

This was going to be harder than she'd expected. Now, not only did she have to keep Freddie from finding out what she had planned, she also somehow had to talk her mother into dinner with the Bensons and pray it wasn't a total disaster.

_'Six days'_ she thought. Just six more days and all this James Bond chizz would pay off. She hoped.

* * *

August 8, 2011

Freddie looked into his bathroom mirror one more time before turning off the light and walking into his room. He was pretty sure he'd never been this nervous. Swallowing hard, he reached for his phone.

"What's up Fredly?" Normally Sam's voice would calm him but tonight it only made the butterflies worse. "You backing out?"

"Nope. We'll be there." He sat down on the edge of his bed. "Are you as nervous about this as I am?"

Sam was silent for a moment and he heard a door shutting in the background.

"Nervous? No. Convinced this is going to end in epic disaster? Absolutely."

Freddie laughed and felt his stomach settle a little. This night was sure to end badly, but at least they were in it together.

"I can't believe your mom agreed to it," he said.

"I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be."

"There's still time to cancel you know," he said, "We can just forget about dinner and go see a movie. I'd much rather be with you then our crazy mothers."

"Man up Benson. It's just dinner. I'm sure it's gonna be awkward as hell and we may be scarred for life but it'll be over in a couple hours and we can try to forget it ever happened."

Freddie sighed and stood, turning out his bedroom light. "Alright, I guess I'll see you there. I love you."

"I love you too."

The ride to the restaurant was quiet. As he drove, he contemplated the strangeness of the situation. His mother and Sam had made the plans together without him. That was strange for about a million reasons, not the least of which was the fact that his mother had never had an idea that Sam didn't think was nuts. When he'd asked Sam about it, she'd just shrugged her shoulders and said they'd have to do it sooner or later so they might as well get it over with. He knew he should just be happy that Sam and his mother were getting along, but something about it just seemed suspicious, even if he couldn't put his finger on exactly what.

He'd asked Carly if she knew anything about it and she'd said she didn't and changed the subject, a sure sign that she did know what was going on but wasn't going to tell him. All the secrecy only made him more nervous.

"So," his mother said, "Do you have any plans for your birthday?"

"No."

His mother smiled and looked out the window.

"What?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you smiling?"

"No reason. I wasn't aware that I needed a reason to smile."

"I'll probably just hang out with Sam and Carly."

"Well that's good. I have to work all weekend so at least you won't be alone."

Great. So his girlfriend appeared to have forgotten his birthday and his mother wouldn't even be home.

"Happy Birthday to me," he muttered under his breath, looking at his mother who just continued to smile and stare out the passenger's window.

'_Dead man walking!'_

He'd heard the words more than once on the crime shows Sam was so fond of. He'd wondered then what it felt like to walk silently down the concrete walkway, knowing that each step was bringing you closer to your death. He didn't have to wonder anymore it had to feel exactly like this.

Dinner with Pam Puckett and Marissa Benson. He could think of very few events where disaster was as certain. He and Sam might agree on the fact that both of their mothers were crazy, and he'd even argued with her that his mother was the crazier of the two, but what Pam lacked in actual crazy she more than made up for in raw, unadulterated inappropriateness.

He'd had limited interaction with her she was rarely home when he visited Sam and when she was, he avoided her like his mother avoided public bathrooms. But the few times he'd been around her she'd either been eating the face of a random dude in Sam's living room, yelling obscenities at the cat, or eyeing him in a way that made him feel like one of the giant salmon at the fish market down at Peak Place.

There was nothing about Pam Puckett that made him feel comfortable about introducing her to his mother. They were polar opposites. His mother hadn't really dated since his father died. Sam's mom had probably had a date before dinner and might have another one after. His mother wore clothes that screamed 'Mom!' while Sam's mother wore clothes that screamed 'DANGER! Grab your wallet and run!' His mother started a college fund when he was born. Sam's mother had gotten a tattoo and it wasn't of Sam's or Melanie's names.

He loved Sam. If he hadn't known it before, this moment made him totally sure. There was no other reason he'd subject himself to a dinner that was already giving him both heartburn and a headache. He shook his head and tried to think positively. Sam had agreed to this; that wasn't normal Sam behavior. It was putting their relationship on display for both their parents and whatever patrons surrounded them in the restaurant. In any relationship the whole 'getting the parents together' thing was a big step, and if nothing else about this evening mad him happy, he was at least pleased to know she was ready for that type of step.

He walked in front of his mother, following the waiter who was leading them to their table. On their arrival to the restaurant he'd told the hostess that they were part of the Puckett party even though the shabby restaurant wasn't the sort to require reservations.

"Oh, you're here with Pam." The host's lip had twisted at bit saying Pam's name, like she'd smelled something unpleasant.

"Uh, yeah. Are they already here?" he'd asked but the host's answer was unnecessary as he heard loud clanging laughter drifting from the back of the restaurant. Well, at least she was on time.

"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes, "She's here. Ronny will take you to the back."

Walking behind Ronny, Freddie cast a glance over his shoulder at his mother. Her face was calm, but her mouth was set in a frown as she looked around the restaurant. Sam said the only way she'd gotten her mother to agree to the dinner was by letting her pick where they ate, and by the looks of things, she liked her restaurants like she liked her men cheap and of questionable cleanliness.

Ronny turned a corner at the back of the restaurant and stopped beside a booth. Freddie slowed a little, mentally preparing himself for what might be coming.

'_Alright, Benson, it's go time.'_

He waited for his mother to come beside him and walked over to the booth. Sam was sitting in the booth alone. She looked beautiful, wearing a dress in dark green with a deep V that might not have been the best decision if he was expected to pay attention to anything besides her chest tonight. Thank God for the tank top she wore beneath it. Her hair was loose the way he loved it and she'd even worn make-up. It was obvious that tonight was important to her; it was also obvious that she was just as nervous as him. She sat playing with a straw in the soda in front of her, nibbling on the corner of her lip. She looked up as he approached and the only way to describe the look on her face was relief.

"Hey," Freddie said, sliding into the booth beside her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey yourself," she said, nodding at his mother as she sat beside him. "Hi Marissa."

"Hello Samantha. You look very pretty tonight."

"No you don't," Freddie leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You look stunning."

That got a smile out of her and he felt her shoulders relax as she brushed against him.

"I thought you guys would never get here!" she said.

"What do you mean? We're early. You said seven, right?"

"Yes, but we've been here since six."

Freddie looked at his mother, who was holding the silverware up to the light and frowning. At any minute he was sure she'd be pulling anti-bacterial wipes from her purse.

"Why have you been here since six?"

Sam rolled her eyes, "Apparently the owner of this dive is an old 'friend' of my mother so she's been in the back getting 'reacquainted'."

He saw his mother cast a sideways glance at them and shake her head, but thankfully she remained silent. Freddie looked around the small banquet room they were sitting in.

"So where is your mom anyway…?"

Before Sam could answer he heard Pam's voice calling to them as she approached the table.

"Hey Ho, the gang's all here! Let's get this party started!"

Freddie cringed inwardly and tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. Pam sauntered toward them, arms spread wide, voice carrying across the restaurant. She wobbled a bit, spilling a little of the amber colored drink in the glass she held, but she seemed not to notice. From a distance, he thought her attire was actually much more normal than anything he'd ever seen her in, and as she approached he looked over at Sam, wanting to kiss her on the mouth for having obviously assisted her mother in dressing tonight. Her dress was a dark shade of blue, and while she was showing a lot more leg than he wanted to view, at least her cleavage wasn't on display an uncommon occurrence for her.

'_This might not be too bad after all'_ he thought entirely too soon.

"So you must be Marissa," Pam said, flopping across from Marissa extending her hand to Freddie's mother.

"It's, uh, very nice to meet you…Pam." His mother was trying to be graceful, he could tell. He only hoped that her attitude held out at least through the main course.

Pam leaned over the table, winking at Freddie, "And if it isn't Mr. Hot Lips. The boy who's got my Sammy all hot and bothered."

Freddie glanced over at Sam, who suddenly seemed to find her lap very interesting.

"Um, hello Mrs. Puckett."

"I told you not to call me that. Mrs. Puckett is my dead beat ex-husband's wrinkly old mother. I think we can both agree I am neither wrinkly nor old."

'_No,'_ he thought. _'No we can't.'_

"Sam, why are you sitting there so quiet? You sure had a lot to say while you were talking me into this little shindig." Pam nudged Sam who looked up at her murderously.

"Maybe because you're more embarrassing than going to school with toilet paper on my shoe?"

Pam narrowed her eyes at Sam. "Hater."

"Cougar."

"Delinquent."

Sam moved closer to her mother, shaking a finger in her face. "The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree!"

"So!" Freddie said, loud enough to get both of their attention. Under the table he squeezed Sam's knee, mentally begging her to back down. He'd been worried about his mom and Sam's mom going at each other he'd forgotten that putting Sam and her mom in the same room was like getting front row seats to a cage fight. "So, Mrs. Puc…I mean, Pam. Sam says that you know the owner?" He was trying to be as polite and respectful as his mother had raised him to be, but Pam was giving him that look again and it made him want to hide under the table.

"Yeah, me and Arnie go way back." She leaned in a whispered conspiratorially, "He's got a little thing for me, so don't worry about the check dinner is on him!"

"Well, that's very nice of you…and your friend." Freddie's mother said, picking up her menu. "So, what do you recommend?"

Freddie reached out and took Sam's hand in his under the table. They watched in amazement as the next few minutes seemed to go smoothly. Pam told Marissa her favorite dishes and even though she had a reason to turn them all down, Marissa was polite and no one was yelling. He leaned in and whispered to Sam.

"Not too bad so far, right?"

Sam shook her head. "You see that drink?" Freddie nodded. "She's only had one. Two makes her almost tolerable. Let's hope she doesn't get to three."

"What happens at three?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Freddie," he looked up as Sam's mom addressed him, "Sammy here tells me you're into Galaxy Wars."

Freddie turned to look at Sam, shocked that she'd shared anything about him with her mother. She was glaring at Pam, her lips a thin angry line.

"Mom…"

"What? You didn't tell me I couldn't talk about that!" Pam looked over to Marissa, raising her glass toward Sam. "This one spent an hour today telling me what I could and couldn't talk about tonight."

"Is that so?" Marissa said politely.

"It is! Apparently I can't discuss politics, religion, men, personal hygiene, the future, the past, or the fact that you're crazy." She laughed, "For the record, you seem perfectly sane to me a little uptight maybe, but if you're interested I've got a friend that can give you some pills that'll fix that right up!"

"Mom, shut up!" Sam said. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Benson."

"Sorry for what?" Pam asked, sincerely confused. Before she could answer, their waiter approached the table, a dirty white cloth folded over his arm.

"Hello, my name is Mark and I'll be your server this evening."

Freddie had never been so happy to see a waiter before. If he'd had confetti, he'd have thrown it anything to stop the runaway conversation headed straight for Awkwardville.

"Hello, Mark. I think I'll have an iced tea, please." His mother turned to him.

"Oh, and I'll have a Peppy Cola and she'll have..."

"I can tell him what I want." Sam said, the tension at the table alive in her voice. "I'll have a Peppy Cola too."

"Remember your manners, Samantha," his mother said. It was probably by reflex, but he still held his breath as Sam's jaw clenched.

"Please," she said through her teeth.

"And you can bring me another one of these," Pam said, winking at the waiter who was at least twenty years her junior, "and your phone number."

Mark blushed and hurried away from the table.

"Wouldn't throw that one out of the bed for eating crackers, huh Marissa?"

'_In five…four…three…two'_

"I don't really think that's appropriate conversation with children at the table."

'_And here we go'_

"What children?"

"These children, of course!" He could tell his mother was trying not to raise her voice. Speaking loudly in public was bad manners. "Talking about…that sort of thing at the dinner table in front of children is just bad manners."

"What are you, the Good Manners Police?"

"Excuse me?"

"Good. Manners. Police." Pam enunciated every word to irritate Marissa more. "And these aren't children. Sammy is already eighteen and isn't Romeo here's birthday this weekend?"

"Mom!" Sam had that threatening look again.

"I don't see how that's relevant at all. Just because they're eighteen doesn't make them any less our children and I think as mothers we have a duty to provide a good example of how to behave." His mother's face was flushed and she was twirling the edge of her napkin furiously.

"Mark!" Freddie cried as the waiter returned. This man was going to be his new best friend.

"Um, hey?" the waiter looked at Freddie, taken aback by his overenthusiastic greeting. "Here are your drinks. Are you ready to order?"

"Did you bring me your number?" Pam reached out a hand and ran her finger along Mark's arm.

"Uh, let's start with you, ma'am," he said, looking down at Marissa.

"Thank you, Mark. You seem like a nice _young_ man." The end of her statement was directed at Pam who rolled her eyes and continued to gaze lecherously at Mark. "I'll have the steamed salmon with vegetables, a salad with no croutons, cucumbers or cheese and low-fat sugar-free dressing on the side."

Freddie was surprised his mother was actually going to eat in this place without asking to see the health inspection certificate but he counted his blessings and kept his mouth shut.

By the time Mark left their table he looked terrified. Freddie wasn't sure if it was because of the 20-ounce steak Sam had ordered, his mother's questions about the hand washing policy for kitchen workers, or the fact that Pam had actually slid her hand (and probably her phone number) into his pocket as he left the table. Whichever it was, he felt sorry for the guy. Whatever they were paying him it wasn't enough.

Unfortunately, with the temporary reprieve of ordering meals over, the table was again bathed in awkward silence. Freddie tried to make small talk which had never been his strong suit, but it was nearly impossible to find a topic they could all take part in. Their meals came and the quiet was disturbed occasionally by lip smacking (Sam), burping (Pam) and irritated sighing (his mother). By the time they'd all finished and Mark had cleared the plates away, he was intensely grateful that it the hellish night seemed to be over.

"So, Marissa." Sam's mother sat back in the booth, rubbing her stomach while picking her teeth with a toothpick. "What do you think about the two love birds here?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." His mother folded her napkin in her lap and settled her disapproving eyes on Pam.

"Well, they're getting pretty serious by the looks of things. Who knows, we might end up in-laws one day, huh?" Pam laughed, Sam glowered, and his mother looked like someone had punched her in the face.

"That's a bit presumptuous I think. I mean, they're very young. Too young to be talking about marriage."

"Well, they might not be ready for marriage but when it's time to seal the deal they'll be ready, if you know what I mean."

_Kill. Me. Now._

"I beg your pardon?" His mother's face was flushed enough for him to know that she understood exactly what Pam meant.

"I put this one on the magic pill after the first time I caught her and Romeo lip locking at the house." Freddie felt his mother shift beside him but was too afraid to look her in the face. Pam laughed at Marissa's obvious discomfort. "Speaking of which." She reached into her purse, pulled out a box gift wrapped with newspaper and tossed it to Freddie. "Happy birthday kid."  
_'Don't open it!'_ his mind was screaming but his stupid hands weren't listening. He pulled at the paper revealing what lay beneath.

"Oh, chizz."

It was the largest box of condoms he'd ever seen. Extra ribbed for her pleasure apparently.

"MOM!" Freddie held onto Sam's waist to keep her from launching herself across the table at her mother. "What the he…"

"Sam!" it was his turn to raise his voice.

"Oh my God!" his mother screamed. His mother never screamed in public. This was bad. "You gave my son…you gave him…"

"Condoms!" Pam said, apparently pleased with herself. "The perfect gift for a growing boy!"

Sam dropped her face into her hands and he heard a quiet stream of obscenities leaking from between her fingers.

What was he supposed to do? Say thank you? Throw the box across the room? Run screaming from the restaurant? He was at a total loss, and to make matters worse, he'd just discovered that his girlfriend, his 'totally willing to have sex with him' girlfriend was on birth control! And she hadn't told him! The complete insanity of it all paralyzed him and he watched the next few minutes unfold while sitting motionless, his mouth hanging open.

"How dare you! You are a terrible, terrible person!" Marissa leaned across the table hissing at Pam.

"Terrible person? Because I can admit that they're gonna have sex?" Freddie's mother grabbed at her chest in shock. "If they aren't doing it already!"

"My son is not having sex! And if he was it's not your place to provide him with…with..."

"Condoms! Seriously…can you not say it?" Pam's voice carried through the room and the other patrons weren't even trying to pretend not to watch the spectacle they were making.

"Mom, just stop it already!" Sam pleaded. "You're such a freak! This is why I don't take you anywhere!"

"I'm a freak? Well welcome to your future, Sunshine!"

Freddie saw Mark hurrying toward their table.

"Excuse me? Excuse me!" Pam, Sam, and his mother continued in their three-way argument. "HEY! Everybody shut up!" Mark finally got their attention and all three women sat back in their seats, staring at him. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're disturbing our other customers." He looked sympathetically at Freddie, "I'm really sorry but the boss said you've got to go."

"The boss?" Pam said, "Tell Arnie not to get his panties in a wad." She'd recovered enough to be hitting on Mark again, and this time as she ran her foot up his leg she didn't appear to want to take no for an answer.

Mark, looking disgusted, pushed Pam's foot from his leg forcefully.

"Yeah, Arnie? He's my dad and he told me to give you a message."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Pam said.

"He told me to tell you he doesn't appreciate you hitting on his son." He threw the check down in front of Pam, "And that you can pay for your own dinner." He looked around the rest of the table, "Have a good night." And with that he stalked away.

"Great job, Mom have you ever run off a father AND son before?"

"Shut it Sassy Pants," Pam said, opening the bill. "No big deal, I'll just hop on out to the ATM and grab the cash for this." She began to scoot out of the booth, smiling at them all. "I'll be right back." She bolted from the table and headed for the front door, Sam hot on her heels.

"Mom!" Sam's voice faded as she got farther from them and Freddie suddenly remembered Pam didn't have a purse with her. Going to the ATM. Right.

He sighed and slouched down in his seat. This night hadn't been nearly as bad as he thought. It was leaps and bounds worse. Now he was here, while his girlfriend chased her deadbeat mother from the restaurant and his own mother sat looking as if she'd just heard the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse getting into a full gallop.

"Mom?" he said, looking over at her. "I'm so…"

"Freddie." She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just go get the car. I'll take care of the bill."

Freddie walked out of the restaurant and ran into a flurry of blond curls.

"Sam?" she stood on the side of the building, her back to the entrance. Freddie grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him. "Oh baby have you been crying?" She didn't bother to deny it or even to wipe the tears from her face. Instead she walked into his arms and laid her head on his chest.

"I hate her, Freddie. She ruins everything."

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't exactly Pam Puckett's biggest fan right now either. He didn't like to see Sam hurt, and Pam was the source of that hurt far too often for him.

"I'm so sorry Sam. That was…"

"Awful? Horrible? A disaster of apocalyptic proportions? She chuckled, her voice muffled by his chest.

"I was gonna say bad, but, yeah, that about sums it up." He pulled back and brushed the tears from her cheek. "I'm going to get the car. I assume your mom is gone."

"You assume right."

"Want to come with me to get the car? I'll drive you home or to Carly's."

"I'll take the ride, but I'd better go in and talk to your mom."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know…I want to."

"I can go with you if you want."

Sam leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Nope. I think Marissa and I need to have a woman to woman chat." She squeezed his hand and headed inside, stopping at the door. "But if one of us doesn't come out in fifteen minutes call the authorities."

Freddie laughed and headed for the car, praying that was a call he didn't actually have to make.

Sam went back into the restaurant and headed for the booth where Marissa was sitting alone. After she'd chased her mom outside, she'd found her in the parking lot trying to get her key in the door lock. She'd run over in time for her mom to slide into the driver's seat and start the car. If she'd run up a second later the obviously inebriated Pam might have run her over.

The conversation between the two of them had been short, loud and virtually pointless. She'd berated her mother for ruining what was supposed to be a really important dinner.

"_Mom! What the hell was that in there?"_

"_That was dinner with your geeky boyfriend and his uptight shrew of a mother."_

"_That wasn't dinner! That was you being a nutcase and ruining everything! And she isn't a shrew! At least she cares about Freddie!"_

"_Oh, cry me a freakin' river Sam. Since when do you care about impressing other people? Pucketts don't care what people think."_

_Sam didn't have an answer for that. Pam was right. Pucketts didn't care what people thought, but this was different. She loved Freddie and he loved his mother. As shaky as their past relationship had been and as much as she hated to admit it, Marissa mattered. How she saw Sam mattered, and her mother had just made sure Marissa would never see her as anything but the delinquent daughter of a basket case._

"_Why couldn't you do something for me, just once!" she screamed, tears stinging her eyes. "I never ask you for anything, nothing! I take care of myself and you when you're too drunk to do it and I never ask you to be different. Never! Just this once I needed you to be there for me. Just this once I needed it to be about me and…and you couldn't do it." She hit the driver's side door. "How is Marissa supposed to trust Freddie to go anywhere with you after tonight? Do you know how much butt kissing I'll have to do?"_

"_Doesn't matter anyway cuz I'm not taking you."_

_Sam stopped and stared at Pam. "What did you say?"_

"_I said, I can't take you and your little boyfriend to NerdWars or wherever in the hell you were taking him."_

_"What? Why?"_

"_I've got something to do and honestly I'd rather not have to deal with him or his crazy mother again anytime soon."_

"_You promised!"_

_Pam gunned the engine and shrugged her shoulders. "Shit happens."_

_Sam moved back as gravel shot from the tires onto her legs. She watched Pam's departure until only her tail lights where visible in the distance._

She shook the memory from her head and prepared for the worst. Marissa sat at the edge of the booth, signing a credit card slip. Great. She'd had to sit through the world's most uncomfortable dinner and now she'd had to pay for it.

Sam approached her quietly and slid into the booth across from her.

"Marissa."

Marissa looked up and Sam braced herself for yelling and looks of disgust but instead on Marissa's face was a look of softness that it almost made her cry.

"Samantha."

"Listen, I'm really sorry for all of this. I…I don't know what to say."

Marissa was silent, sliding her pen back into her purse and reaching across the table to grab one of Sam's hands.

"Is it always like that?"

Sam nodded her head, not trusting her voice.

"And she drinks like that a lot?"

Sam nodded again. "It hasn't been this bad in a long time. Not since…"

"Since your dad left."

Sam's head shot up. "How did you kn…"

"Freddie told me. And don't be mad at him about it. He talked to me, because he cares about you. What matters to you matters to him. He loves you, and I don't think I realized just how much until tonight."

"I love him too, you know."

"I know you do." She squeezed Sam's hand and sat back in her seat. "Samantha, we can't pick our family. We can't control who they are or what they do. All we _can _do is make the best of the life we're handed."

"Easy for you to say," Sam mumbled.

"You think so?" Marissa eyed Sam intently, "My father's favorite pastimes were drinking and yelling. I spent the better part of my childhood terrified I'd end up just like him."

Sam pulled her eyes from her hands, clasped on the table and looked into Marissa's eyes.

"I…I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. No one does. Not even Freddie." She cleared her throat. "And I'd like to keep it that way. My father died when I was fifteen. And after he died I promised myself that I'd do whatever I could to be a different kind of parent then he was. You see the things I do for Freddie and call me crazy."

"Marissa…"

"Don't try denying it now," Marissa laughed. "I've heard you myself. But what you call crazy, I call success. Every time I make sure his homework is done, or that he has a good meal or that he doesn't have ticks"-they both laughed-"that's proof that I'm different than my father."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I want you to know, Samantha you have a choice in who you become. No one has a say in that but you. You're tough you had to be to grow up with Pam Puckett. And you're smart, even if you don't apply yourself as much as you should. You aren't your mother, Samantha."

Sam sighed and wiped at a stray tear running down her cheek. If anyone had told her a year ago that she'd be sitting at a table with Marissa Benson crying and having a heart to heart, she'd probably have brought out the butter sock.

"Now," Marissa said, standing beside the table, "about this trip to Portland."

"I know, I know," Sam said, scooting from the booth. "Freddie can't go. I understand. It's cool, Marissa."

"Did I say Fredward couldn't go?"

"But my mom…you won't let him go with her after all this and she said she can't take us anyway."

"Well you're right I wouldn't want Freddie going with _her_ after this."

"I don't blame you. Maybe there's still time to plan a little party for Saturday night. We've got a couple of days. And Carly loves planning parties."

"We can't have a party on Saturday."

"Why not?"

"Because Fredward won't be here. He's going to Portland with his girlfriend."

Sam stared at Marissa a smile slowly filling her face as she realized what Marissa had just said.

"Shut up!"

"Samantha…"

"Sorry! But are you serious?" she was resisting the urge to jump up and down. "You're gonna let him go?"

"Yes…with the same conditions as before."

"Right! Anything!"

"And you'll wear seatbelts at all time."

"Right."

"And obey the speed limit."

"Yes!"

"And you'll call me when you get there and before you leave."

"Yes! Whatever you say!" She rushed forward on impulse and threw her arms around Marissa. "Thank you so much!"

Marissa chuckled and patted Sam's head softly. Sam pulled away, still amazed that despite how completely her mother had blown this evening, it had still ended on the highest note ever. And she had Marissa to thank for that go figure.

"Alright Marissa, what do you say we get out of here. I kind of told Freddie to call the cops if one of us wasn't out there in fifteen minutes."

"Sure, let's go." Marissa said, following Sam to the door, "Now, about that present your mother gave Fredward."

* * *

August 11, 2011 5:00 am

His apartment was deathly silent. His mom wasn't home, and once again Sam had declined to spend the night. He'd been so upset by that turn of events that he'd stayed up until two am stewing over it. His birthday was tomorrow; he'd thought for sure that she'd come over and they'd spend the evening laying in his bed watching movies. And in the morning, she'd make some snappy quip about his present being that she was letting him make her breakfast in bed. He'd pretend to be mad but would still go into the kitchen and make them pancakes. Then they'd spend the whole day together. It didn't even need to be anything special. At this point, after almost a week of barely seeing her, he'd just have been happy to have her there with him, to be able to see her face, reach out in the middle of the night, and feel her next to him.

But Sam seemed intent on staying as far away from him as possible, and that was the fact that worried him enough to keep him up at night. He knew they weren't a normal couple, they didn't always see eye to eye and sometimes they still had World War III-level arguments, but in his heart she was still the only girl for him. He didn't want to be with anyone else, but lately he was worried that maybe she didn't feel the same. He knew it had only been a week, and Sam hadn't said anything to give the indication that he was on his way to receiving a pink slip, but he couldn't help it. He was nervous.

His phone began chiming and he frowned, looking at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost five in the morning. It couldn't be Sam; there was no way that Sam was awake. There was only one person who'd contact him that early his mother. He ignored the phone and rolled over, trying to quiet his mind long enough to go to sleep.

His phone rang again, and again. After the fourth time he gave up, turned over and picked up his phone.

_Sam: Pick up your phone nub._

Sam. Why in the world was she texting him at five in the morning?

_Freddie: You do realize what time it is._

_Sam: Yep. I'm in front of your building._

_Freddie: What? Is something wrong? What are you doing here?_

_Sam: Calm down. I'm fine_.

_Freddie: Are you coming up?_

_Sam: Nope. You're coming down. You've got twenty minutes-we've got somewhere to be._

_Freddie: You're not making any sense._

_Sam: You should be used to that. Now hurry up, you're down to nineteen minutes._

Freddie set his phone on the nightstand and scrambled out of his bed. His mind was racing with all the possible reasons Sam was in front of his house at the crack of dawn. At best, she'd woken up with a taste for pancakes and wanted him to pay. At worst she'd committed a crime and was on the run. He went with pancakes, threw on his clothes and headed out of the house.

He yawned as he opened the door to the lobby and walked out onto the sidewalk in the still dark Seattle morning. Idling on the curb was Sam in her mother's red Impala. He wondered for a moment if her mother knew she had the car, but shook the thought from his head. He was going to spend some much needed time with his girlfriend and he refused to consider whether that time would be spent in a potentially stolen vehicle.

"With three minutes to spare!" Sam said, all smiles. He hadn't realized how much he missed that smile until now. All this week, every time he saw her she'd looked stressed out or preoccupied. But now she sat in the driver's seat, comically close to the steering wheel, smiling at him like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Well, you sounded like there might be physical punishment if I didn't follow your directions. So here I am." He shut the door and Sam gunned the engine, pulling off way too fast from curb.

"So where are we eating?"

Sam looked at him with a wicked grin. "We aren't going to eat."

"So you got me up at five am for?"

"Can't a girl just want to spend some time with her boyfriend?"

"Not when it's this early and that girl is you!" he said, turning to face her, "Wait a minute…why are you getting on the highway?"

Now he was freaked again, and starting to consider the possibility that she might actually be on the run.

"We, my dear Fredward, are going on a little road trip."

"Sam…a road trip? We have iCarly rehearsal in like seven hours!"

"Don't worry about it, I told Carly we'd rehearse when we got back …tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Sam, I can't just take off I didn't bring anything with me…"

Sam nodded her head toward the back seat.

"Taken care of."

In the back seat was a duffle bag…his duffle bag. The one his mother said she'd needed to wash a couple days ago and that, from the looks of it, had already been packed.

"How did you…"

"Anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?" she smiled, staring straight ahead.

"But what about my mom? She's gonna freak!"

Sam reached into the sun visor and pulled down a small folded piece of paper, handing it to him.

"Sam…"

"Just read it and stop being difficult."

Freddie shook his head and opened the note.

_Freddiebear,_

_That girlfriend of yours is awfully persistent but I was very happy to hear her say you'd never go for this without knowing I approved. So here is my approval. Be safe, have fun, behave yourself, and please remember that I'm too young to be a grandmother._

_Love, Mom_

_P.S. Tell Samantha to remember what we talked about._

He looked over at Sam, a smile slowly spreading across his face. This is what it had all been about. The disappearing acts, the dinner disaster, all the strange acting. She'd been planning something.

"So a road trip, huh?" he said "Probably pointless to ask where we're going, huh."

"You're learning," she said. "Now buckle up Benson, and enjoy the ride."


	10. All Hail Nug Nug!

**Chapter 10: All Hail Nug Nug!**

* * *

Freddie always teased her about her snoring. She wished she could record him now, lying with his head against the passenger's window, his mouth hanging open, sawing logs like a professional lumberjack. He was adorable when he was sleeping.

They'd been driving for almost three hours now. She'd spent the first thirty minutes trying to evade his questions about their destination and the next thirty trying to distract him from reading road signs. Finally she'd pulled out her last resort and handed him an ice cold water bottle she'd prepared for just such an occasion. It had enough 'additives' to keep him relaxed, and hopefully sleep until they reached Portland. Within twenty minutes he'd drifted off. But her relief was short lived. He woke up two hours later and the conversation that followed was…enlightening.

_She looked over at Freddie who was stirring beside her and laughed out loud at the look on his face. She'd seen plenty of people-most of them her mother's friends – under the influence of one thing or another, and Freddie at the moment could easily blend into that crowd. He was leaning against the passenger's side window, staring at her with the world's dopiest grin on his face._

_Still smiling, he raised his hand to his face and began to poke steadily at his forehead, eyes crossed as he tried to look at his own finger._

"_I can't feel my face."_

'_Oh brother' she thought. This was not a part of her plan... She'd meant for the little 'treat' she'd put in his water to make him sleep – not make him stupid. Maybe she'd put in too much. She was never very good at chemistry._

"_Trust me…it's there." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Now quit poking at yourself, you big doof."_

"_Doof." He said, "Doof, dooooof." He laughed, "That's a funny word."_

_Sam shook her head. Yep, definitely too much._

_Looking at Freddie from the corner of her eye she saw him studying her, licking his lips._

"_You're pretty," he said._

"_Um…thanks?"_

"_No, I mean like really, really pretty." He reached out and touched her hair, twirling a strand around his finger. "I like your hair. It's like…like curly sunshine!" he said slowly._

"_You're crazy," she laughed._

"_I'm not crazy." He said, leaning over to poke her in the shoulder. "Maybe you're crazy." He sat back in his seat with a heavy sigh, his face scrunched into a frown._

"_What's wrong?" Sam asked._

_He looked at her, his eyelids low as if half sleep. "I want to kiss you." He reached out his hand and ran it through her hair, trailing it over her shoulder and down her arm, sending shivers up her back. "I want you to pull this car over so I can kiss you, and touch you," he ran a hand over her thigh, "all over."_

_Before she could answer he retreated to his side of the car, leaning against the door again, looking miserable._

"_But I can't…I have a girlfriend. And I love her."_

"_Is that right?" she said._

"_Yep." He said, popping the p with finality. "And she's tough…she'd kick your ass." He snuggled back into the seat, resting his head against the window as he yawned, "and mine too."_

"_Well then you'd probably better not touch me again. We wouldn't want to piss her off."_

_He placed a finger to her lips. "Shhhh…don't tell Sam."_

"_My lips are sealed."_

"_Hey," he said, in a voice only the inebriated could consider a whisper, "Wanna know a secret?"_

"_Lay it on me,." sShe said, raising a bottle of Peppy Cola to her smiling lips._

_Freddie leaned close enough to Sam that she could feel his breath on the side of her face._

"_I think I'm gonna get lucky tonight."_

_Wholly unprepared for his statement, she choked, spraying Peppy Cola over the dashboard. She knew first hand from her experience with a dentist's 'wacky gas' that the truth was easier to tell when you were in an 'altered state.'. So she wasn't the only one thinking about what this night might mean. He was thinking it too._

_"Getting lucky?"_

_"Yeah...I think we're gonna..."_

_"I know what it means."_

_He closed his eyes, a sly smile on his face. "Yep. Lucky, lucky me."_

It was all she could do to keep her laughter in as he drifted off inside of a minute, returning to his jack hammer snoring beside her. He was going to be furious when he woke up, but hopefully by then they'd have arrived at GalaxyCon and all would be forgiven.

According to the directions she'd memorized the day before, they were about twenty minutes out from Portland. She smiled to herself, still hardly able to believe that she'd pulled it off. In her life, she could count on one hand the number of times she'd made this much effort for anyone – and she'd still have fingers left over. Some people might call it selfishness, and maybe in a small way it was, but mostly it was because she'd spent her life surrounded by people who either didn't care what she did –like her mom, or by people who never expected much from her – like Carly.

She loved her best friend, and she loved the fact that Carly accepted her as she was, but sometimes she wondered if what Carly gave her was acceptance or lowered expectations. When it came to anything requiring responsibility Carly just assumed Sam couldn't handle it. Once, when Sam and Freddie had gotten in an argument, Carly "mediated" by telling Freddie that Sam was like "a wild chimp." She hadn't said anything, but that comparison had hurt. She knew she was unpredictable and not the most disciplined person around, but until that moment she hadn't realized just how much Carly _expected _her to be that way.

It was different with Freddie, and that difference was what made Carly's opinion so obvious. Freddie knew the not so good parts of her better than anyone. And like Carly, he pretty much accepted her as she was. But, unlike Carly, Freddie allowed room for her to change – he expected more from her and that made her think, for the first time in her life, that maybe she was capable of more. This trip was the first time she'd been able to prove it.

She'd planned it all herself-no help from Carly. She hadn't even shared all the details with Carly until the night of the disastrous 'meet the parents' dinner. She was proud of the fact that she'd done something for Freddie that no one else could do. When he'd told her that he couldn't go to GalaxyCon he'd looked so disappointed. She'd decided then and there to make it happen – whatever it took.

Her cousin Ricky, Uncle Carmine's son, was well known in certain circles for being able to get anything for the right price. He'd laughed for a good twenty minutes when she'd told him what she needed. He wasn't exactly used to hunting down tickets to things like GalaxyCon. But she was his favorite cousin so he'd pulled some strings, given her a family discount, and now she was speeding towards Portland with the GalaxyCon passes burning a hole in her bag. She couldn't wait until she could pull them out and present them to Freddie. It was going to be epic.

And afterwards they'd be staying the night in the hotel next to the Convention Center. This was the part of the plan that made her more than a little nervous. She looked over at her blissfully unconscious boyfriend and wondered how he'd take the news. It wasn't like they hadn't spent the night together before. Since returning from Vancouver she'd spent at least a couple nights a week squeezed into his double bed, complaining about the lack of space, but secretly glad that it forced her to spend the night pressed close to him, folded into his arms.

She loved being with him like that, feeling his heart race as she moved against him, the feeling of his breath, soft against her neck as he slept. And as frustrating as it was that he insisted on not moving past the kissing and touches that set her body on fire, it felt good to be there – knowing she was wanted, needed. She'd made her case for not waiting, but in the end he'd won. He wanted it to be special – her heart appreciated that, even if her body threatened mutiny.

So she'd waited, taking cold showers when necessary. But this last week it had just been too much. She'd turned down his requests for her to stay the night. She was only so strong, and self-control wasn't something she was known for. Once the plans had been made and approved by Marissa, the tension she felt whenever she was around him had lifted a little. The end of the maddening waiting was in sight – at least if she had anything to do with it.

Tonight was the night. All he had to do was say yes.

'_I think I'm gonna get lucky tonight.'_

She had to be honest, until he'd made that comment she'd been uneasy about the idea. What if he said no? What if 'making it special' was just an excuse – was guy-speak for _'I really don't want to be with you that way,'_ like when they said ugly girls had great personalities or they couldn't date you because they didn't want to mess up your friendship. Now she knew for sure that she wasn't the only one who wanted this.

Just the thought of it made her a little dizzy. They had a whole night away from over protective mothers and nosy best friends. A whole night in a room with a big bed, where she could do whatever she wanted to hot, way-too-muscular-for-a-nerd, naked Freddie.

'_Stop it Sam!'_ she thought and silently cursed her mother for passing on these hornball genes. Loving Freddie had been a shock, but equally shocking was the sheer physical reaction she had to him.

Yep, tonight was it –it had to be, or she was likely going to explode.

Freddie started to stir beside her, and she gave a silent thanks that according to her directions they'd be pulling up to the convention center in the next ten minutes.

She was ready.

* * *

He felt like his whole body was on a thirty second delay. His arms and legs had the slightly unpleasant sensation of moving through water and it felt like he'd been sucking on cotton balls in his sleep. His face was smashed against the passenger's side window and all at once he was embarrassingly aware that there was drool on the side of his mouth – thankfully on the side facing away from Sam.

He tried to wipe his mouth inconspicuously before turning toward Sam, who was focused on the road in front of them.

"The dead have arisen!" Sam laughed, "It's a Christmas miracle!"

He stretched and tried to focus his thoughts. Glancing at the clock, he was shocked to see how long he'd been out.

"I've been asleep for almost three hours?"

"More or less," she said. '_If we don't count your little trip to crazy town.'_ "You were asleep. And drooling. And snoring."

He wiped his mouth again, "I don't snore."

"Tell that to my damaged eardrums, nub." She laughed. "And you talk in your sleep."

"Are you serious?" he said, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "What did I say?"

"Nothing too important. Just that you wanted to molest me. And apparently you have a girlfriend whose gonna kick my ass. And yours." She laughed.

Freddie shook his head. This day just got stranger and stranger. He'd been virtually kidnapped, was on the road to a destination as yet unknown, and his brain was irritatingly foggy.

"Where are we?" he looked out the window but the road stretched in front of them, no signs to give away their location or destination.

"Almost there."

"Almost where?" he said, reaching across the seat to grab the water bottle Sam had given him as they left Seattle.

"Didn't I tell you to just ride?" she laughed, her face falling as she noticed what he was holding. "Don't drink that!" she screamed, knocking the bottle from his hand.

"What the heck, Sam! Why don't you want me to…" Staring at the bottle, he narrowed his eyes and turned to her slowly as realization set in. He'd been asleep, dead asleep, for almost three hours, which made no sense. He was wide awake when he got in the car, despite how early it was. He hadn't been sleepy at all, he'd been thirsty – then he'd drunk from the water bottle she gave him, and suddenly all he wanted to do was shut his eyes.

"Sam…what's in the water bottle?"

"Huh? What do you mean? It's water." Her voice was even and calm. He almost believed her, then she bit her bottom lip – that was her tell.

"Sam?" he picked up the bottle from the floor of the car. "What did you put in the water?"

"Nothing! You sound as paranoid as your mother!"

"Give it up, Puckett – I know you did something."

Sam sighed and tightened her hands on the steering wheel, glancing over at him.

"It was nothing…really. Just…a little Dramamine."

"What? Dramamine? Like the motion sickness drug? You drugged me!"

"Oh, calm down. I didn't drug you."

"What do you call it?"

"I call it getting you to shut up long enough to get us where we're going!"

He turned to face her. He couldn't believe she'd done it.

"If I'd done that to _you_ they'd put me in _jail_!"

"You were asking a million questions and driving me nuts so I figured we'd both be more comfortable if I just…helped you relax a little."

"I wasn't relaxed, Sam! I was passed out.!"

"Same difference!" She took a sharp right and pulled off the highway into a busy industrial area. "Now will you just calm down for two seconds?"

"And if I don't are you gonna drug me again?"

Sam rolled her eyes and took another right. His eyes were too trained on her even to notice where they were going.

"Just trust me Benson, this is gonna be worth it."

"What in the world could be worth being dragged from my house at the crack of dawn, drugged and taken God knows where?" he asked, holding onto the door as she took a sudden left turn.

He stared at her as she suddenly brought the car to a stop and a smile spread over her face as she stared out the window. He followed her eyes and in the time it took him to see what she was seeing all the anger he'd felt the moment before evaporated.

They'd come to a stop in the parking lot. Ahead of them streams of people walked past the car and into a large building. Across the front of the building, hanging over the entry way was a bright red sign.

'_Welcome to GalaxyCon'_

"You've got to be kidding me." He whispered, afraid he might still be asleep and dreaming this.

Sam leaned over to him and whispered in his ear.

"Happy Birthday."

Sam always said he was the girl in their relationship but he was suddenly sure that couldn't be true because if it was he'd surely be crying right now. Instead he felt like a four year old turned loose in a toy store. He resisted the urge to run screaming like a loon from the car, but just barely.

GalaxyCon. It was the nerd Mecca and he'd dreamed of making the pilgrimage since his first big screen exposure to the planet Juveron and the valiant soldiers who defended it. His whole body was tingling and if he wasn't sure it'd give Sam reason to make fun of him for life, he might have leapt from the car and done the Ceremonial Juveronian Dance of Victory.

"Well, are you gonna say something or just keep drooling on yourself?" Sam laughed and moved the car toward an empty parking space on their left.

"How?" It was really all he could manage to say at the moment but at least it was words and not the screams of happiness ringing in his mind.

"I know people. No big." Sam offered, shrugging her shoulders. "Still mad?"

He looked at Sam as she put the car in park. If this surprise had come from anyone else he'd have been happy, but it hadn't come from just anyone. It came from Sam – and that made it mean twice as much. No matter who she said he knew, she must have called in every favor known to man to get these tickets. And she'd gotten his mother to agree to it! He was suddenly ashamed of the week he'd spent worrying about why she was acting the way she was, wondering if she was pulling away from him, being suspicious of her every move. She'd been planning _this_ the whole time.

He reached across the space between them and pulled her close, lowering his face to her and kissing her until she finally drew back, flushed and breathless.

"I'll take that as a no." She laughed.

"I can't believe you did this." He said sincerely. "So that's what this whole week has been about? Your little conversation with my mom, the dinner, you disappearing all the time."

"Yeah," she said, "and you didn't make it easy. You made it nearly impossible with all your questions."

He reached into her lap and grabbed her hand. "Do you have any idea how amazing you are?" he said. "This, is the best birthday present ever!"

"Yeah, yeah," she shrugged, "I'm made of awesomeness and rainbows."

Sam tossed the keys in her bag and got onto her knees, leaning into the backseat for her duffle bag. Riffling through it, she sat back down with a smaller bag in her lap.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Part of the 'Happy Birthday Fredward' package." She said, pulling out an envelope and handing it to him. "These, are your official GalaxyCon tickets including…drum roll please, tickets to the All Hail Nug Nug Tribute Band Concert!"

"Shut up!" he screamed.

"I will not." She reached into the bag again. "And no nerd convention would be complete without – your official GalaxyCon "All Hail Nug Nug" T-shirt" she tossed him the black t-shirt, "I got one too!" she said, pulling a smaller T-shirt from the back, turning it around he laughed at the letters she'd ironed on herself.

'_I'm with the Nub'_

"Clever." He said.

"And now for the piece 'de resistance". She handed him a small yellow card with her familiar scrawl across the front.

"This ticket is redeemable for one complaint and insult-free day courtesy of the World's Greatest Girlfriend – who is expecting one hell of a Christmas gift," he read, smiling up at her. "You're going to spend a day surrounded by nubs and nerds with no complaints?"

"That's what it says."

"Well, then this is the most valuable part of the package!" he laughed. He looked down at his lap, still hardly believing she'd done all of this for him. "Sam, this is…I don't even know what to say."

"Thank you. You're the most amazing girlfriend in the world. I am eternally in your debt. I bow to your awesomeness."

"Yeah," he said, leaning toward her. "All of that." His lips brushed hers and he was lost in the moment.

Sam pulled away, entirely too soon for him.

"As much as I'd love to sit here making out with you all day, we could have done that in Seattle." She placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Now let's get inside. Your nerd public awaits!"

* * *

Freddie was smiling so hard he thought his face might actually crack. He'd spent the day at GalaxyCon, something he'd dreamed of since he was twelve years old. Not only that, but he'd gotten to spend the best day ever with his girlfriend; his ridiculously amazing girlfriend who'd somehow managed to get tickets to an event that had been sold out for six months. She'd walked with him hand in hand and, true to her word, she hadn't complained once all day. Even when she'd had to sit through a workshop on GalaxyWars fan fiction – her first exposure to one of his guilty pleasures. For an hour she'd fidgeted beside him as a panel of hardcore GalaxyWars fans discussed the ins and outs of writing stories that expanded the GalaxyWars universe. Afterwards she looked as if she might burst so he'd given her a temporary reprieve from the "no insults" clause of her promise. For an hour the GalaxyNerd jokes had flown fast and furious but he didn't mind that so much. The important thing was that she was there with him. That she'd planned this all on her own – just for him.

Now they stood at the front of a stage where a GalaxyWars tribute band was playing to a shouting, frenzied crowd. He was so close to the stage he could reach out and touch the Nug Nug lookalike playing electric guitar. He was sure Sam was never going to let him hear the end of it when they got home, but for now he couldn't imagine it getting much better than this.

"You guys have been great!" the lead singer shouted into the mic. "And for those of you with VIP passes you can go to the door on our right and prepare to meet…Nug Nug!" The crowd went wild and Sam shook her head and laughed. Freddie laughed along with her. He was a part of the GalaxyWars fandom, had been for most of his life so he understood just how big a deal it was to meet Nug Nug. The diminutive character was his favorite in the fandom and he hadn't made a GalaxyCon appearance since 2007. Meeting him was a once in a lifetime sort of thing and he found himself just the tiniest bit disappointed that he wouldn't get to do so.

Sam tugged on his elbow, pulling him toward the side of the stage.

"Let's go, Freddie."

"Sam, where are you going?"

"To make all your nerd dreams come true." She smiled and Freddie suddenly understood.

"You didn't!" he screamed.

"I did!" she laughed as he scooped her up and planted a kiss on her lips.

"How did you…"

"I…"

"Know somebody," they said in unison.

They walked toward the side of the stage and took their place among the line of backstage pass holders. He held her hand tight dizzy with anticipation. He was going to meet Nug Nug. He knew how dorky that sounded, but at the moment he couldn't have cared less.

It was finally their turn at the front of the line and a tall wall of a man in a black shirt that declared him 'Security' reached his hand toward them.

"Passes," he said, with an air of authority to his deep voice.

Sam handed him the passes in her hand and reached for the door handle.

"Hold on just a minute." The guard threw an arm across the door to prevent their entry. "These passes are no good."

"What the hell do you mean they're no good?" Sam said.

"I mean they're no good. They're fake," he said, and Freddie heard shocked gasps and whispered insults from behind them.

"Listen buddy," Sam said, turning angry eyes on the guard, "there is nothing wrong with those tickets, now I suggest you move your arm before I'm forced to break it, and let us through that door."

The guard looked down at Sam in amusement. He looked at the couple standing behind them and asked to see their tickets. Sam glared at them and for a second the couple looked between the guard and Sam, obviously weighing out who was more dangerous. Finally they handed their tickets to the guard.

'_Bad move'_ Freddie thought. When weighing out danger it was always safe to bet on Sam.

"You see this?" the guard said, shoving the couple's tickets into Sam's face. "Bar code. All valid tickets have them. Now, you see this?" he showed her the tickets she'd given him. "No bar code. No bar code, no entry. Now I suggest you move out of the way and let the paying customers pass."

Freddie looked down into the red face of his girlfriend. She was getting mad. And mad Sam was someone Freddie did not want to have to handle. If the guard knew what was good for him he wouldn't want to either.

"Come on baby, let's just go," he put a hand on her elbow and she jerked away, walking up to the guard who easily stood a foot above her.

"Listen buddy, I've got a fifty dollar bill with your name on it – that's gotta be at least forty more than they're payin' you to play rent-a-cop."

The guard looked down at her and laughed. Freddie closed his eyes.

This was not going to work out well.

"Listen lady, I can't let you in. You should have gotten your tickets honest like everyone else. Bootleg VIP passes don't get you back stage." With that he crossed his arms over his massive chest and moved Sam to the side so he could let in the people who'd been standing behind them.

Freddie looked down at Sam and cringed. He recognized the look on her flushed face. It was her 'thinkin face' – that face always spelled trouble.

"Stay here Freddie. I'll be right back."

"Sam…what are you going to do?"

"What? Don't you trust me?" she asked innocently.

"Depends. Is what you're planning illegal?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna do anything illegal." She said, starting to walk away. "I'm just changing tactics."

He grabbed her wrist so she couldn't leave.

"Sam, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna do!"

"True. But whatever it is, I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea!"

"Do you want to get backstage or not?"

He fought with himself. He did want to go backstage, it would be the icing on the cake of the best birthday ever, but he didn't want to get in trouble – or have to bail Sam out of jail. He walked close to her and whispered in her ear.

"You already offered him money and he turned it down. He's not gonna budge."

"Trust me Fredly. He's a nerd, just like the rest of your buddies here – taller and less acne prone, but a nerd just the same."

"What's that got to do with getting backstage?"

She patted the side of his face. "Oh, poor clueless Freddie. Nerds aren't moved by money. So I'm gonna use the International Nerd Currency."

"What?"

She pulled away from him and took off into the crowd. "Trust me!" she called over her shoulder.

He spent the next thirty minutes trying to do just that, and failing. After twenty minutes he began to imagine every negative scenario. She'd gotten in a fight with security. She'd been carried out in handcuffs. She was on her way to the police station while he stood there, clueless, holding a GalaxyCon commemorative drink cup.

After thirty minutes he started to mentally prepare the speech he'd give when he called his mother to ask for bail money when he heard a commotion across the room.

"Make way for Lady Landria."

The sea of costumed attendees was parting and he heard the ceremonial trumpets of war being sounded. He moved away from the wall he'd been leaning on to see what the fuss was about. He looked down at his Convention Agenda. Lady Landria - the widely acknowledged sexpot of the Galaxy Wars universe- with her red and gold corset, tiny gold shorts that looked more like panties and knee high boots, was the stuff of dreams – very special dreams. She'd been the first object of his boyhood fantasies. If she'd been making an appearance, he'd have known.

The opening in the crowd came closer until finally his mouth fell open as he saw first-hand what was causing the ruckus.

Standing in front of him in the red and gold outfit that his boyhood lust had centered around was Sam – looking every bit the space age sex goddess. Suddenly he forgot about getting back stage. He forgot about Nug Nug and even forgot that they were in a room full of people. He wanted to sling her over his shoulder and walk triumphantly from the Convention Center, sword raised above his head as he was praised and envied by lesser men, men who didn't have girlfriends who looked like sex on legs.

Sam sauntered towards him, and his eyes fought to see it all, the swaying hips, the tan, toned legs that led to the world's tiniest shorts, the corset that was barely covering…

"See something you like?"

Freddie shook his head and tried to focus on the words coming from her mouth. He swallowed hard and felt his knees go weak as the blood in his brain made a mass exodus southward.

Sam twirled around in front of him, striking a pose with her arms behind her head – chest pushed forward.

"Aren't you supposed to bow or something? I'm royalty from what I hear." She laughed and Freddie humored her, bowing low before standing and wrapping an arm around her waist.

"So…International Nerd Currency?" he said

"Yeah…" she said, pulling away from him and sweeping a hand across her chest. "Boobs." She leaned up to kiss him. "Now wait here while Mama works her magic."

All Freddie could do was shake his head. If the security guard could resist Sam looking like that then he was either the strongest man in the world – or the dumbest. Freddie leaned against the wall and watched in amusement as Sam sauntered up to the guard.

Seeing her approach, the guard seemed to forget that he was opening the door for several people entering the back stage area and unceremoniously slammed the door before they could enter. The leader of the entering group, a short paunchy male ran headfirst into the closed door, breaking his plastic sword. His companions, also focused on Sam, ran into the back of their chubby friend and all three ended up on the floor where they sat, staring at Sam and seeming to prefer the view their new seats provided them.

Sam was right, for most of the guys there, her walking near them was the closest they'd get to touching someone as hot as her. He felt pride swell in his chest. If they knew she was with him they might just crown him King. Take that, Nug Nug!

"Freddie!" Sam called to him and he laughed at the dopey grin on the security guards faces as he opened the door, bowed, and waved her in. Freddie hurried over to her and muttered thanks to the guard who seemed not to even notice Freddie's presence, focused as he was on the view of Sam's costume from behind.

"She's with me, " he said to the guard – who was still too concentrated on Sam's retreating form to hear him. The trio of nerds entering behind them, however, heard him clearly. Staring at Freddie in awe, the chubby leader whispered to Freddie.

"Dude! Teach me. Teach us!"

Freddie shook his head and followed Sam through the door and into the backstage area.

Once inside they were led to a large reception area and it was safe to say that with Sam in the room, all thoughts of Nug Nug were temporarily banished from the minds of the males present – and possibly some of the females too. Freddie's jaw clenched as he became aware of just what kind of disturbance she was making. He knew what he'd thought when he saw her so he knew exactly what all these sex-starved super nerds were thinking, and it made him want to punch something. Preferably a face.

"Lady Landria!" a tall, lanky boy with greasy hair, a face full of acne scars and glaringly pale skin of the 'my only exercise is fighting Trolls in World of Warcraft' sort, ran up to them. He was dressed in full Juveronian solider costume, complete with fake sword and shield. He bowed low and grabbed Sam's hand. "I am your humble servant. I bow to your power and beauty. Command me and I shall obey." He drew her hand toward his lips and Freddie prepared to shove the guys shield where the two Suns of Juveron didn't shine.

Sam jerked her hand away and swept her leg out and behind the poor guy's knees, dropping him before he had a chance to realize what was happening. Leaning into his face, a knee-high boot on his chest, she hissed.

"How's this for a command you freak…Touch me again and die!"

She grabbed Freddie's hand and stepped over the startled boy who was still trying to catch his breath.

She looked over her shoulder at Freddie, who was smiling proudly.

"What?"

"You're amazing." He said, squeezing her hand, "And I think you might have broken his leg."

"Maybe next time he'll think twice before he puts his greasy hands on the Grand High Princess of Juveron."

"How did you know…"

"You've made me watch that movie like a million times and I paid attention at least once," she said. "Now let's hurry up and meet the Nerd King. I've just about reached my freak threshold for the day."

He laughed and followed her to the line in front of a table where Nug Nug sat – or at least he thought it was Nug Nug. Standing at less than five feet, it was impossible to see him over the heads of the crowd.

They reached the front of the line twenty minutes later. He'd heard about people fangirling before-he always thought it was ridiculous for them to get so excited over celebrities –they were just people like everyone else. But when he stood in front of the table and looked down into the face of the real live Nug Nug he was suddenly incapable of speaking like a normal person, instead stuttering and stammering as he tried to hand his GalaxyCon program to Nug Nug to sign.

Sam rolled her eyes and pulled the program from Freddie hands, slamming it down in front of Nug Nug who had joined the rest of the male population of the room in staring at Sam's outfit or lack thereof.

"This is Freddie – he's currently nerding out so let me translate. He's your biggest fan. He's seen all you movies, you're his idol, blah, blah, blah. Now if you don't mind can you stop staring at my boobs long enough to sign this for him?"

For his part, Nug Nug had the decency to blush at Sam's words and hurriedly dropped his eyes to the program.

"I'm your biggest fan!" Freddie finally managed to say, goofy grin intact. Both Sam and Nug Nug looked up at him and he cringed at how dorky he must sound. "I mean, I, um, I really enjoy your work." Too late, damage was done, and he thought he saw Nug Nug laugh as he returned to signing the program.

Finally done, he lifted his eyes and handed the program to Freddie.

"Nice to meet you Freddie, thanks for the support." He raised his hand in Soldier's Salute, two raised fingers crossed over the chest then touched to the forehead.

"All Hail Juveron."

"May she ever prevail!" Freddie joined the crowd in completing the salute.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam muttered, shaking her head.

Freddie shook Nug Nug's hand, and followed Sam as a security guard herded them back toward the door they'd entered through. He shuffled along behind her, still in shock at having fulfilled his childhood dream.

"You alright?" she asked.

"I met Nug Nug," he breathed. "I can't believe I met Nug Nug."

She reached for the door handle and pushed, leading them back into the large convention area. "And I can't believe I'm dating a guy who's this excited over a midget in a fancy costume."

"Sam…you promised."

"I'm sorry," she said, raising her hands. They walked toward the exit, following the crowds of people headed the same direction. All around them booths were being shut down as the convention drew to a close. Arriving at the car, she reached over and grabbed Freddie's hand, pulling him from his thoughts.

"So, did you have a good time?"

"Sam, there isn't a word good enough to tell you how amazing this was." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning them both against the side of the car. "This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "But the night isn't over." She pushed away from the car and headed for the driver's side.

"Do you want me to drive?"

"Nope," she said, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver's seat. "We don't have far to go."

"Where are we going exactly?" he said, reaching for his seatbelt. Sam pointed out the front window and his eyes grew wide. Sitting to the side of the Convention Center was one of the nicest hotels he thought he'd ever seen. In the darkness it was illuminated by a large fountain that sat in the middle of a circular driveway. It stood at least fourteen stories, surrounded in glass and steel, a glass elevator visible from the street.

"We're staying there?"

It was exactly the type of place he'd imagined on all the nights when Sam pressed her body to his and whispered her desire in his ear. Exactly the type of place he'd seen in his dreams – the sort of place where he could finally give in to the desperate need for her that clouded his thoughts and put his will power in a stranglehold.  
As she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the hotel, he was suddenly aware of exactly what this meant. He was approaching more than a building of glass and steel. He was moving toward the biggest moment of his life.

"Yep." She said. "But you might not want to mention the sleeping arrangements to your mother. She's under the impression that we'll be in separate rooms."

No problem there. He doubted there was much about the rest of this night he'd be sharing with his mother.

Sam pulled into a parking spot and turned the car off. The silence between them was heavy and Freddie searched his mind for something to say.

'_Say something, Freddie!'_ he thought, but he was at a loss.

"Do you know why I'm into Galaxy Wars?" he asked.

"Because you're a big dork and until you met me and Carly, Nug Nug was your only friend? She laughed.

He smiled, staring out the front window.

"Freddie?" she asked, when he remained silent. "What's wrong? Why are you…"

"It was my dad." He said softly. It wasn't a story he intended to tell her. Considering what might be happening in a matter of minutes it seemed an odd choice to bring up a parent, but it seemed important somehow. "When he died my mom was a mess and I didn't have anyone to talk to. One day, when I was about eight I guess, I found the first movie in a video store. I remember watching it and there was this scene at the end when…when Prince Vastian's father dies and he's ready to give up and throw himself into the Eternal Darkness but then his dad's spirit comes to him and he says…"

"I'm never really gone…I live on in you," Sam said softly. "I remember that part."

"Yeah." He said, "It was like it all made sense to me then – my dad dying, why I had to pick myself up and keep living," he sighed. "Ever since then, Galaxy Wars has sort of been our thing – me and my dad, even though he's not here."

Sam turned in her seat and grabbed Freddie's hand. He looked into her eyes, the beautiful blue eyes that made everything in him scream '_This is it! She's the one!_'

"Your bringing me here, Sam, being here with me." He shook his head, unsure of how to make her see how much it meant. There didn't seem to be words, so he said the only thing his heart seemed able to understand at the moment. "I love you."

Sam leaned over and kissed him softly. "I love you too." She sat back and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Why don't you grab the bags and I'll go check us in." She scooted from her seat and walked toward the hotel entrance, seemingly unbothered by what she was wearing. That was Sam; he wasn't sure anything embarrassed her.

He was grateful that her absence gave him a few minutes to collect himself. Every time he considered what might be happening in a matter of minutes, his jeans got embarrassingly uncomfortable. He silently chastised himself for being a typical guy. They were getting a hotel room-that wasn't proof positive that anything was going to happen. They might just go up to their room, get in the bed, and go to sleep. But even as he considered that option, he knew it was unlikely. Sam had made no secret of the fact that she was ready for their relationship to go further. She was ready to give herself to him.

But was he ready? It had been easier to deny her when he had the excuse of wanting their first time to be special. Now, after spending the day with her, he couldn't imagine being able to create a moment more special than this.

He loved Sam, more than he thought it possible to love someone. There wasn't anyone else he could imagine being with, but this was a big step – the biggest and he'd finally arrived at a moment where a decision was required. Thinking of the day they'd had, every moment leading up to it, every time he'd held her in his arms and wished he could live forever in the moment, his decision was made.

His phone chirped and he pulled it from his pocket.

_Sam: We're all checked in. You ready?_

He took a deep breath and smiled.

Yes. He was ready.


	11. The First Time

**Chapter 11: The First Time **

* * *

It had all been a blur. Walking through the lobby, her hand in his, the elevator ride. Even when they entered the room; she couldn't exactly recall what he'd said to her, if anything. She'd escaped immediately into the bathroom, desperate for some time to calm herself.

It was ridiculous really, she'd been the one to press the issue, who said waiting was unnecessary who simply felt ready. During all those nights in his room, in his bed, she'd been the one to push the limits. To take him as far as he'd go and still beg for more.

But now that the moment was here she was terrified. She wanted nothing more than to be with Freddie that way. And she knew he wanted it too. Her fear had less to do with the act itself and more to do with how it might affect everything else that made them … them. She'd worried while she showered, while she washed her hair, while she brushed her teeth. And now she stood in the full length mirror, trying to shake the doubts away as she brushed her hair.

Freddie loved her-of that much she was sure. And as much as it was in his power to do so, he'd promised not to leave her. She trusted that; trusted with her life when it came down to it. She knew her worries were probably typical. She knew if ever there was someone to whom she could give something this precious and know they'd understand the value, it was Freddie.

She sighed and looked into her bag. It was filled with things Carly had insisted she buy once she found out what Sam had planned for tonight. There was lace and satin, strings and ties, and outfits she'd never be able to put on by herself. But picking them up one by one, she realized that none of them felt right. She hadn't come here to play dress up she'd done enough of that at GalaxyCon. She'd come to show Freddie that she loved him and that she trusted him. She'd come to give him all of her the real her. Not a Barbie doll dressed up in fancy clothes.

In the end she hadn't eradicated all of the fear, but she'd summoned courage enough to open the bathroom door and enter the darkened room in only a towel no make-up, her wet hair in loose ringlets around her bare shoulders, no pretenses. This wasn't the time to present an airbrushed version of herself, covered in satin and lace. This was a moment meant for stripping down to the truth of who they were, separately and together.

Freddie turned from the window at her approach and locked his eyes on hers. In all his years of knowing her, she'd always been a master illusionist, capable of hiding in plain sight when it was hardest to be honest, or where being vulnerable was imminent. It was less so since she'd come to trust in the fact that he loved her, but tonight, on her face, there was a clarity that shook him. In the crystal blue of her eyes there were no more shadows, no walls to keep him out. She wasn't hiding.

She stopped at the edge of the bed and he continued toward her, never taking his eyes from hers. His breath was ragged, fingertips tingling at the promise of touching her. He couldn't seem to reach her fast enough and when he finally stood in front of her and ran his hand over the goose bumped flesh of her arms, he nearly cried out his relief at being near her. Touching her made this real.

Running his hand over her cheek, he brushed the hair away from her face, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. She was trembling against him, whether from cold or fear he couldn't be sure, so he pulled her tight against him. She tensed then, moving her head to rest on his chest. He ignored what was building, coursing through him; ignored his desire to grab the towel covering her and throw it to the farthest corner of the room. He wouldn't rush. She'd waited for him. He could wait for her.

"I love you," he said. She nodded against his chest. "And you know we don't have to do anything you don't want to." She froze, her shoulders rigid. "Sam, look at me."

She raised her head and met his eyes. He wrestled with the raw lust that looking at her filled him with. It was a hard fight. Just the thought of what lay beneath the towel draped around her curvy frame made it hard to breathe. But everything else was secondary to his promise to her. He would put her first, even if not having her felt like it would kill him.

"If you don't want to…"

"No, Freddie." She said, her voice re-gaining its strength. "I want this, want you, so much. It's just…" she sighed, "This. It changes everything."

Threading his arms around her, he leaned in close, whispering in her ear.

"The best things always do. Loving you…it changed everything. And I wouldn't take it back not for anything."

He felt her relax into him, her hand sliding from his neck, down his arm. She pulled back and squeezed his hand before letting go and walking past him toward the bed. At the side she turned out the light on the nightstand and turned toward him. Looking into his eyes, she raised her hand to the knot that held closed the white towel that covered her. With a short tug, it fell into a puddle at her feet, and he envied the moon that kissed her skin and bathed her body in its light.

He'd heard people call her pretty. He'd told her she was beautiful. It had been true, was still true, but the way she looked now those words seemed inadequate. It was more than just what he could see and touch that made it so. It was the way she stood, pressing past the fear of what tomorrow might bring, offering herself to him.

She was showing him a part of herself that no one had ever seen, giving him something no one had ever had that she could never give again. That truth tugged at the fraying strands of his self-control until it finally released him. He couldn't stand another minute without her skin under his hands. He felt heavy with the weight of wanting her, needing her.

He rushed to where she stood and captured her lips with his. This kiss wasn't soft. It was firm and demanding. He sucked at her bottom lip, running his tongue along the sensitive flesh behind it. She opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, moving her lips insistently against his, pressing herself into him, sliding her hand along his jaw and into his hair. His hand rested at the small of her back, his fingers tracing circles on the skin there, sending tiny shivers up her spine.

There would be no stopping this time-she knew that. There was more that lay beyond their kisses and knowing that made her hungry for him. Her hand drifted from his neck, grabbing hold of the bottom of his shirt, slipping her hands underneath. She ran her hands across the skin of his chest, over his stomach, tracing the lines of his hip bones as the disappeared beneath his jeans.

"Too many clothes," she smiled into his mouth, tugging at his shirt. "This needs to go."

"Your wish is my command." he said, stepping back to pull his shirt over his head. His hand went to the button of his jeans.

"Let me," she whispered. She undid the button and slid the zipper down, slipping her hands in behind him she pushed his jeans down until they fell to his feet. He stepped out of them quickly, pulling her back into his arms.

They'd never been this close, she realized, skin to skin, the only thing preventing full contact the thin fabric that did little to disguise the thickness of him as it pressed against her. She squirmed against it, amazed at its. A moan rippled through his chest and his lips were on hers again, his tongue twisting against hers. Her pulse quickened as he tightened an arm around her waist, lifting her into the air, never breaking the kiss. Turning her towards the bed, he laid her softly at the center of it.

On his knees beside her he stared down, eyes raking over her as he lowered himself, his body a shadow over hers. He lay there, just kissing her, his hands running softly over every curve, now free to discover even the hidden places. This was worship as foreplay. He wanted his hands to learn every inch of her, memorize the slope of her hop, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts.

Neither of them knew exactly what they were doing, but mechanics seemed somehow irrelevant. Their bodies moved against each other, familiar even in the newness of their circumstance. What they knew was a fierce hunger for the other that demanded attention, what they didn't know they would learn the same as they had so many other things together.

He hovered over her, his mouth hot against her neck as he sucked at the skin there, dragging his tongue against the vein, reaching her ear, nibbling at her earlobe. She was sure she'd never known what it felt like to be adored until this moment when he looked down at her, his eyes dark with lust, drinking her in. And then his mouth was on her again, running a circuit across her body from head to hip, and back again. Every kiss falling on her like the sweetest of promises.

"So beautiful." His words were muffled as he licked his way down the valley between her breasts.

"You always say that," she whispered.

"It's always true." His hands were soft as he took one breast in his hand, kneading the flesh. She pressed her hand to the back of his head, leading him to where she needed him, and her breath left her in a rush as his tongue traced a circle around her nipple before drawing it between his lips. Like a current, his mouth sent heat surging through her. He placed feather-light kisses over her chest as he moved to her other breast, his tongue twisting and swirling as he drew more of her into his mouth.

His hands molded to her body as they found their way down her ribcage, over the curve of her hip and onto her thigh. She tried, in vain, to stop herself from quivering as he spread her legs with one of his, his fingers tracing a line over her knee to her inner thigh. Their softness was more suggestion of touch than touch itself as they moved and higher and higher still, turning her to liquid beneath him. When their maddeningly slow ascent brought them to her center, her hips jerked, pressing into his hand, seeking release.

"Please, Freddie," she breathed.

He lay propped beside her and at her breathless pleading, he smiled.

"Someone's impatient."

At another time she might have said something witty, but his fingers playing at the edge of her entrance, refusing to touch her where she wanted it most, made it impossible for her to form coherent thought let alone witty banter.

"Just….ahhh," her eyes rolled as one finger slid across her core.

"Just what?" he asked, kissing along her jaw line, returning his fingers to their teasing. "What do you want me to do, Sam?"

"Touch me," she barely recognized the throaty whisper of her own voice.

He needed no further encouragement and as he slid one finger inside her, his thumb running circles around her clit as she hissed. There was blinding light behind her eyes and she cried out from the shock of it, the sound of her pleasure cut off as he kissed her. She rocked her hips, arms tight around his neck as he set their rhythm. She returned his kiss hungrily. Her mind was hazy; the feel of him, the taste of him was all that made sense.

"Oh, God, Freddie…"

"Does that feel good?" he murmured against the side of her mouth.

"So good, don't stop…"

He wouldn't stop, he couldn't, not with her mouth sucking and biting at his neck. With her moaning and writhing beneath him. He'd never seen anything so sexy and even as he throbbed with the need for his own release he was too mesmerized by her reaction to quit, or even slow down. He quickened the pace of his fingers, watching as she tensed, a red blush blossoming on her chest.

He pressed himself against her leg, needing the friction even if it threatened to end it all way too soon. He'd read that the more aroused a woman was, the easier it was the first time. He didn't want to hurt her or take the chance that in the moment he'd be done before she was satisfied. So he'd pay attention to her first, and pray he had the strength to hold on.

She was loud now, calling out into the otherwise silent room.

"Freddie! Ahhh!" She fell back against the bed, back arched, mouth open and he felt her clench around his finger, before her body went slack. She lay still as he removed his hand and lay beside her, staring into her face. She was breathing hard, her tumble of blond curls wild as they lay across the pillow.

He placed soft kisses on her eyelids, trying to calm himself, but it was no use. He hadn't had enough, he needed more of her all of her. He ran his fingers along her side, grasping her hip. She was so still that for a moment he wondered if she was asleep.

"Sam?" he said softly.

"Mmm Hmm. Just give me a sec."

The man he was becoming was happy she was satisfied, and proud he was the cause. The boy he was now protested the interruption loudly.

She opened her eyes and peered up at him, laughing softly.

"Don't look so disappointed."

He hadn't realized what the look on his face might be saying.

"I'm not disappointed. I'm…"

"Ready for your turn?" she said, her voice low. Before he could speak she wrapped her hand around the base of his neck and pulled him down to her. He realized then he could kiss her for the rest of his life and never tire of it. Her hands fell to his shoulders, running over them. She outlined the muscles of his chest inching lower to his waist, scratching softly at the skin just below his navel. Stopping at the elastic to his boxers she hooked her thumbs into the waistband tugging them over his hips. He rose up and pulled them off clumsily, both of them laughing as he fell back to the bed.

"Now who's impatient?" she teased.

Pushing on his shoulder, she turned them so that she was on top. Her legs draped over either side of his waist and he groaned as her backside pressed down onto him. With an open mouth her tongue began a trail along his neck, over his chest. She wriggled against him, positioning herself lower, knees on either side of his legs. She placed a hand to his chest to balance herself, nibbling at the skin of his stomach, leaving heat in her wake like a match to a trail of gasoline.

He knew what she was doing, but he couldn't believe what she was doing. Looking down the line of his body he found her eyes were on his. She was really going to do this and look at him while doing it. It was too much; he stiffened to granite hardness when she came to a stop, her small hand moving up his thigh. She placed her hand along his shaft, grasping the base and he nearly wept as her warm, hot mouth engulfed him.

"Fuck!" He didn't curse, not under normal circumstances. But this situation he found himself was, until this point, not normal. The pressure of her lips around him, her tongue swirling around the tip as her hand matched the up and down movement of her mouth. It was heaven, it was bliss. And it was going to have to stop.

"Sam…" She ignored him, increasing the pace of her movements until he saw stars. He attempted to sit up, which only pressed him further into her mouth, until he disappeared behind her lips and thought sure he'd die on the spot. "Unhh! God!" he threw his head back and tried to remember why he'd wanted her to stop. The tension building in his gut, pushing him closer to the edge, was his answer. He reached down and gently lifted her head, scooting his hips back.

Her eyes were confused. "Why are you stopping? Did I… do it wrong?"

"No!" he said, "That was…amazing. But if you don't stop, this is going to be over really soon."

She laughed, nodding her understanding, crawling back up his body, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. He rubbed his hands over her back, drifting down over the delicious curve of her ass. Her breath was a soft rush over his skin.

"Everything," she said, "everything you do to me feels so good."

She ground her hips into him, both of them jolted by the electricity as his dick made contact with the pool of wetness between her legs. Sitting up, one hand in her hair, the other wrapped over her stomach, she began to rock against him. If being inside her was going to feel this good, he wasn't sure he could take it.

She was slick against him as he lifted his hips, pressing into her, but never far enough. Biting her lip, she dropped further onto her knees and his tip passed through her folds. She flinched and fell down over him, hands on his shoulders. He took advantage of the temporary shift in power and flipped her over roughly.

He continued to rub against her, drenched now in the proof that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He kissed her, his lips forceful and insistent. His mouth demanding response, hers responding in kind. Spreading her legs, he positioned himself between them. She was quiet now and he knew: this was it. This whole weekend, this whole summer, had been leading up to this moment. There was no turning back from here, no more waiting or wondering. This would make her his, in a way that she could never belong to anyone else. The thought didn't scare him it pushed him. This woman lying in his arms was all he wanted, not just now, but forever.

He reached over to the nightstand, pulling out the drawer and grabbing the condoms he'd put there while she was in the shower. Small foil package in hand, he perched on one elbow, opening it.

"You know we don't have to…use those I mean."

She was on the pill. He'd almost forgotten that. It was something they needed to discuss. Now was not the time.

"Better safe than sorry," he said, pulling the condom out of the package. Sam pulled it from his hand and he squeezed his eyes shut as he found himself again wrapped in her grip. She rolled the latex down impossibly slowly he wondered if she was torturing him on purpose.

Looking down at her his eyes ask the question his mouth couldn't form.

'_Are you sure? Are you ready?'_

In answer to his silent inquiry Sam shifted on the bed, reaching between them to place the tip his length at her opening. He lay against her, head by her neck, and pushed into her slowly. He stopped when he was met with resistance and the sound of Sam whimpering beneath him. He sat up, scanning her face.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she said, "Just…go slow."

He did. He was slow and deliberate, biting his lip until he thought he'd draw blood. She was so hot, so wet. He moved into her again and again. His body shook with the effort to keep himself from delving deeper. Finally, he pushed forward and felt the barrier give way as he slipped into her, faster than he intended. His ears were ringing, he felt dizzy. All around his dick she wrapped him in silken heat, with every thrust gliding over slick walls. He threw his head back, a groan more feral than human escaping his lips as he called out her name. For the rest of his life, pleasure would be defined by this moment, and he was lost in it.

Sam pressed her hips into the bed, her body involuntarily moving away from the pain, searing and insistent at her core. She'd known it would hurt, but she hadn't expected the sudden sharpness of it, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him. It was pain different than any she'd known, but it was also joy like she'd never known. Looking into his face above her, jaw tense, eyes closed as he called her name with jagged breath, she'd have done it again, a thousand times again no matter the pain. Just to hear him say her name that way. Just to know that he was hers.

The pain began to subside, overtaken by a pleasure that made her feel like she was flying inside of her skin. Where the pain had been instant, this new feeling came in flashes matched to the timing of his thrusts, each one tightening the spring of coiled heat in her stomach. Just as she'd adjust to one wave another would replace it, stronger than the first. It was a building crescendo.

She knew he felt it too. Above her he bit his lip in concentration, his breathing rapid. His fingers dug into the skin on her hip, grabbing it, pulling her closer and closer. She understood this need; she didn't think she could be close enough. He was over her, in her, all around her, and still she wanted more. Spreading her legs further, he sunk down into her, hitching her leg over his hip, wrapping it around his back, his hand sliding under her to the soft curve of her ass. This change in position drove him into her completely. The feeling of her, drenched and throbbing around him was, all at once, too much and not enough. He couldn't control himself, couldn't seem to maintain a steady movement. His strokes were as erratic as his breathing. Sam moved wildly under him, whimpering, gasping, crying out his name, and whispering her love for him. He wanted to prolong it, to live in the center of the greatest feeling he'd ever had, but he knew his body wouldn't hold out much longer.

He couldn't focus on anything beyond the power of this feeling. He moved frantically, burying himself in her. Every sense was sharpened, everything more vivid. At the base of his shaft there was a tightening that ran the length of his body and he curled inward, eyes rolling against the sensation. He was close.

"Oh God, Freddie." Sam's voice was high and keening. She grabbed onto his neck, his arms, his back, her hands in constant motion, her hips, twisting, twirling, threatening to undo him. "I think I'm going to…" her words were cut off as he slid out of her and back in, even deeper than before, hitting a spot she'd only heard existed. She screamed and he felt her begin to spasm around him, clenching and unclenching, pulling and releasing. It was his ending.

Lowering his lips to hers he gave in and with a final thrust he was pulled from his body, the world exploding around him like shattering glass on pavement. He screamed out her name into the quiet room and felt her tighten around him once more. He burst, tremors sending his body shuddering against hers, the legs she'd wrapped around him shaking, her fingers clawing at his back as she opened her mouth in a silent scream. And then they were still.

He couldn't move. but he knew his weight would be too much on her small frame so he rolled to his side, gathering her into his arms, unwilling yet to break the connection between them.

She laid there, her back pressed firmly to his chest, trying to catch her breath. Trying to stop her legs from shaking. She understood now why it had been important to wait; understood why this couldn't have happened with anyone else. No one on Earth would ever be as close to her as Freddie had been in that moment. She wouldn't want to share that connection with anyone else.

Freddie's arms wrapped tighter around her, his face buried in her hair. His breathing had almost returned to normal. She ran her fingers along his arm, leaning further back into his chest.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded and raised his hand to her lips, placing a kiss against his palm. He felt wetness against his hand and rose up to look into her face.

"Sam, are you crying?" She hadn't really realized it until he spoke. But there they were, tears, coursing down her cheeks. "Baby, what's wrong. Did I hurt you?" He sounded desperate and she shifted in his arms, facing him with a soft smile on her face.

"You didn't hurt me."

"Then why are you crying?" he asked, poised to fix whatever he'd done to hurt her.

She shook her head, "It's just…that was," she sighed, "Perfect."

He relaxed and rested his chin on the top of her head and held her in the silence. Her breath against his neck was soft and steady. She was asleep.

He smiled to himself, running the last 24 hours through his head. She was right, it had been perfectly them: laughter and tears, pleasure and pain. He couldn't imagine that anything had ever felt as right as this, or ever would again.

'Yep', he thought as Sam's heart beat against his chest, 'Lucky, lucky, me.'


	12. Afterglow

**Chapter 12: Afterglow **

* * *

"Yeah mom, we're fine. We're leaving in a couple hours. Yes, I'll make sure to eat breakfast first. Seriously mom – have I ever had to make sure Sam ate?"

Sam smiled as she drifted slowly from sleep. The warmth she'd felt surrounding her all night was gone. Freddie was up and, from the sounds of it, talking to his mother. Sam shifted in the bed, drawing the sheet around her body. Freddie was standing near the bathroom, facing away from her.

"We should be home by 4 or 5 at the latest. What? I'm not talking about that with you right now, Mom. No. No! Mom – we'll talk when I get home. Alright, I love you too."

Maybe it was the fact that she was still half asleep, or maybe it was what had happened in this room last night, but for some reason she was noticing things she hadn't before. His broad shoulders in that shirt, how the material stretched across his back and then fell loose to his jeans, covering his…"  
"Good morning Sleeping Beauty." He turned and caught her staring at him. A sarcastic smile played on his lips and he put his phone on the table, walking toward her.

"Good morning yourself," she said. "Happy birthday." He slid into the bed beside her, his hand running softly under the sheet to trail up her waist before settling his hand on the small of her back. She shivered, fully awake now, and slid closer to him, settling when she found the spot in his arms where she fit best. "So how's it feel to be eighteen?"

"Right now, everything feels amazing." He breathed out a contented sigh and began to rub slow, lazy circles against her back. His touch reminded her that this was who they were now. They were a couple that knew each other's hidden places, who shared their bodies the same way they shared their hearts and afterwards lay naked in each other arms whispering, laughing into the darkness.

But there were other things, things they didn't show you in the chick flicks – complications to this newness. For instance, they'd had sex. There was no un-doing it—not that Sam wanted to-but did that mean they were supposed to do it all the time now? Now that she had a 'sex life,' something that boggled her mind, what exactly did that mean? Were they supposed to talk about it, or just let things happen naturally? And then there was the whole nakedness issue. He'd seen every part of her there was to see, so did that mean she was supposed to get up now and walk to the bathroom naked as the day she was born? And why was it that in the heat of the moment she'd barely been nervous about what he might see, but now in the light of day she was thinking of every imperfection and how it might look to him?

And she was sore. In those girly movies she'd watched, no one's first time had looked painful, a glaring error she now knew. In the movies, the next morning they all lept out of bed perfectly fine. She couldn't imagine leaping anywhere, since she felt like a small semi-truck had run between her legs. Not exactly the sexiest feeling in the world. If she was close to her mother or if Carly had any experience maybe she could ask one of them if it was supposed to feel like this. But as it stood Carly's V-card remained unswiped, and the only potential mother figure she had was Marissa-and this was not something she was going to discuss with the semi-truck driver's mother!

Then there was the problem bugging her most right now.

Morning breath.

As much as she loved Freddie, the idea of him kissing her before she'd brushed her teeth grossed her out a little. But what was she supposed to do? Never kiss him before she'd gotten out of bed? Keep breath mints under her pillow? Cupping a hand over her mouth, she breathed into it, trying not to draw attention to what she was doing. She scrunched up her nose, shaking her head.

Dragon breath alert – get this girl some toothpaste…STAT!

She needed to get in the shower. Freddie was already dressed and smelling like soap and mouthwash. And here she lay, her hair a mess, her breath strong enough to leap tall buildings in a single bound and smelling, for all the world, like sex. It was almost funny what a mess she was but from the hardness pressed against her leg as Freddie held her he wasn't in the mood to laugh. She laid a soft kiss on his chest and turned away, scooting toward the side of the bed.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Sorry, but if I stay in this bed much longer I may never get out of it."

"That was sort of my point," he said, leaning across the bed, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her back.

She was used to several versions of Freddie. There was nerd Freddie – the one who had a coronary over new software or the latest gadget. The same boy she'd spent an entire day with, watching him go nuts all things Galaxy Wars. That was the Freddie she'd spent most of her life making fun of. Then there was 'the good son' Freddie – Fredward in that version. This was the boy who showed impressive patience as his mother doted, coddled and smothered, the Fredward Benson of tick baths and impeccable hygiene. This summer she'd gotten used to 'boyfriend Freddie,' the guy who took her on dates and did stupid stuff like fighting guys twice his size out of love for her. This was her favorite version of him. But now, looking up at her with lust filled eyes, touching her exactly the way he knew she loved – this was 'sexy Freddie.' The one who kissed her breathless and touched her body with confidence. This was a Freddie she had to get used to.

She shook the cobwebs from her head and stood up fast, laughing as Freddie's head hit the mattress.

"Where are you going?" he whined.

"I've got sex hair and bad breath – I'm going to take a shower." She attempted to wrap the sheet around her and Freddie pulled back on it, leaving her uncovered.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Suit yourself, not like you haven't seen it already." She said with much more confidence than she actually felt, heading for the bathroom.

She showered and got ready, getting dressed in the bathroom. She found an Advil in her bag, hoping it would address the ache between her legs and joined Freddie in the room. It was late, she'd slept later than she should, and now they were rushing to get their bags together and check out. Well, in a reversal of roles, she was trying to get their stuff together while Freddie followed her around the room convinced they had just enough time.

"One for the road?"

She laughed at the puppy dog look on his face. Overnight her boyfriend had become a walking, talking hormone. She walked over to him, placing a slow kiss on his lips, feeling him pull her close. He started to walk them toward the bed. He thought he'd gotten his way.

Poor silly boy.

She put a hand to his chest, stopping him before she kissed her way up his jaw. "Not very fun when someone makes you wait is it?" she whispered in his ear before pulling away, laughing as he groaned and mumbled something about things not being fair.

"Get a move on Frederly, if I don't have you home soon your mother's gonna send out search dogs."

She grabbed the room keys and her purse, he grabbed the bags and they headed out to the lobby. She could appreciate it now, how beautiful the hotel was. Last night she'd been a jumbo basket full of nerves and she doubted she'd noticed much beyond the pounding of her heart. Walking hand in hand with Freddie through the lobby toward the hotel restaurant now, the worries from last night were gone. There were worries, sure – but they were new, different. They weren't the worries that come from wondering what you mean to someone, they were the worries that come from knowing what you mean, from realizing you've fallen too deep to get out unhurt.

They sat at the table waiting for their order – regular pancakes and bacon for him, a double stack with blueberry topping and extra bacon for her – and she was relieved that there wasn't any awkward silence, no stuttering and stammering trying to figure out what to say. They were talking now the same way they had before last night. She wondered, briefly, if that's how she'd come to classify things.

Before last night and after last night.

Not surprisingly she finished eating before him and amused herself by going through the Galaxy Wars Convention program he'd set on the table and taking advantage of the fact that she could now make fun of it all she wanted without breaking any promises. Flipping to the back page. she howled with laughter.

"Oh, my God, I didn't think the little dude had it in him!"

"What is it?" Freddie said, looking at the page she was pointing to.

"Did you read Nug Nug's autograph?"

Freddie wiped his mouth, setting his napkin in his plate, "Um, no – I was sort of pre-occupied looking at my half-dressed girlfriend." Sam pushed the program toward him still laughing as he read out loud.

_ 'To Freddie 'my biggest fan': Your girlfriend is wicked hot. Congratulations. – Nug Nug"_

Freddie frowned at her as she roared with laughter, "It's not funny Sam!"

"Oh, yes it is!" she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Years from now you can show it to your nubby offspring and tell them that your girlfriend was hot!"

He turned his face toward her. "Or maybe," he said, "I can tell them that their mom was hot."  
"Yeah…wait, what?"

Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "You know, maybe one day we'll have kids and I'll show this to them and they'll see how hot you were…are, you know what I mean."

This was a new development. Over the years they'd talked about the future in a vague sense – what they'd be like as adults, what kind of jobs they'd have, whether Freddie's mom would ever let him move out or quit writing his name in the waistband of his underwear. But this, this was concrete – he was talking about a future that involved her.

"What's wrong?" Freddie asked.

She fiddled with her napkin, looking at him from under her lashes. "You think about that?"

"Think about what?"

"About…you know, kids and.. marriage and stuff. You think about that…with me?"

He looked over at her, a little surprised that she'd ask the question. "Well, yeah – I guess I do. I mean, I don't think about it happening today or anytime soon. But – yeah," he said, grabbing her hand, "when I think about my future, picture where I'll be and what I'll be doing – I see you." He squeezed her hand. "Does that bother you?"

"No, I mean…"

"Be honest Sam. Tell me how you feel."  
She sighed and looked up at him. "It doesn't bother me, it's just that, I don't know – I guess I just…I've never really thought about that sort of stuff." Seeing the hurt look on his face, she tried to explain. "Not that I don't want to be with you or anything I just…marriage and family, it's not something Pucketts seem to do all that well so I just never considered it before I guess. And… it's a little scary."  
"Scary? Being with me scares you?"

"No! I don't mean it like that. It's not you that scares me, it's the whole 'till death do we part but usually it's over way before anybody dies' thing that scares me."

He understood that. If her mother was an example of the sanctity of marriage, then it stood to reason that Sam would view the whole thing as little more than pretense, a piece of paper not worth much more than what it cost to print it. He didn't blame her for her views, but it was different for him. His parents had been in love, even thirteen years after his death, he knew his mom still loved his dad. It was probably the reason she'd never re-married or dated anyone for long. He knew what love in the long term looked like. And he knew that marriage didn't work all the time – but sometimes it did.

He wasn't crazy; he knew that talking about the future with Sam was risky. She might be okay with it – or she might spook like a horse and take off running. He didn't want to scare her. He just wanted her to know exactly how serious he was.

"Listen Sam, I love you, and last night – that meant something to me. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't plan to be here, with you, for as long as you'll have me."

She smiled at him. 'Boyfriend Freddie,' always protecting her. She reached out and wiped syrup from the corner of his lip. "You're such a nub."

"A nub who loves you."

"A smart nub then." She laughed, "And I love you too. But in case this doesn't work out," she said nodding toward the convention program, "apparently there's always Nug Nug."

* * *

Seattle – 45 miles

They were almost home. He looked over at Sam. She was leaning against the passenger door, her hair hanging over her face, her feet in Freddie's lap. She'd passed out about an hour ago after breaking the news to him that she intended to tell Carly that they'd had sex.

Being friends with Carly when he and Sam had first started dating was difficult. There was never any awkwardness from Freddie's past crush on Carly, as he had initially feared. But Carly was used to being the one who took care of Sam and wasn't thrilled with the idea of Freddie taking that slot. After Sam's birthday, things had gotten much better and, before this weekend, they'd actually gotten almost back to normal. Now everything was going to be awkward again.

Sam said he was crazy, that he'd had sex with her, not Carly, so there wasn't any reason for things to get awkward. But Freddie knew better. It was just another thing about Sam and Freddie that Carly couldn't be involved in – and that was really hard for her. Now every time he and Sam were alone or Carly couldn't find them she'd be assuming they were …well, hopefully her assumption would be right sometimes, but that only made it more awkward.

He could see it now. As soon as they set foot back in Bushwell, Carly was going to get Sam alone and demand all the details. And if Sam gave her those details she'd know stuff about him that he wasn't really comfortable with her knowing. He'd been friends with them long enough to know that girls were almost as bad as guys with the locker room talk. Thankfully it seemed like they saved the more 'descriptive' conversations for their girls' nights when he wasn't there, but at the moment that just made him more nervous. What if they talked about specifics like what he looked like or whether it had been any good. He and Sam hadn't even discussed that yet. Then he'd be forced to interact with Carly, all the time wondering just how much she knew. This was going to be so weird.

Sam stirred beside him, shifting in her seat. She was wearing a T-shirt that hugged her curves and a pair of jeans slung low over her hips. As she moved her t-shirt raised just the tiniest bit and revealed the tan skin of her lower back. He remembered kissing that very spot, the way she'd squirmed and sighed when he'd done it.

He shook his head, turning his attention back to the road. He refused to be that guy. Just because they'd had sex didn't mean it needed to consume his every thought.

_I am so not going to be the girl in this relationship,_ he thought.

Nope, he was a guy. A regular, warm blooded seventeen – no eighteen year old guy, one who had spent months trying to keep his desire for the gorgeous girl beside him in check. Now that they'd actually had sex, it was like turning a kid loose in a candy store. He wanted to respect her. He didn't want to make the assumption that having sex once meant they'd be going at it like rabbits from here on out. But part of him, a very specific part, was having a difficult time with that idea.

Like Déjà vu, every time he thought of last night it was like being there again. He could practically taste her on his tongue, feel her under him, around him…

BEEEP

Freddie swerved back into his own lane, having drifted over while daydreaming. This is what she did to him – what just the memory of being with her did to him – made him blind to everything but her.

One thing made it a little easier – he loved her. Unlike some of the guys he went to school with, this wasn't a rush to have as much sex as he could before he got bored and tossed her to the side. He had no intention of tossing her to the side, and the idea of Sam every boring him was unthinkable. Being with her was exciting – even when they weren't doing anything exciting. Sex might be a part of their relationship now – but it wasn't the whole of it. As far as he was concerned, Sam was his future – even if the idea seemed to scare her.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, Sam asleep beside him, he could pick up this scene and place it ten years in the future, throw a couple of kids in the back, and be just as happy as he was now.

_'Shit…maybe I _am_ the girl'_

The closer he got to Seattle, the more he began to think of all the things he needed to get done. School started in just two weeks. With it being senior year there were a million things he needed to do, decisions to make. Unlike most of the kids in his class, he'd had his top five schools picked out since the beginning of junior year. He knew the requirements for acceptance and had been careful to make sure he met them all. Now, with less than twelve months until graduation he was excited, but scared. It was going to be a whole new life. Living, hopefully, away from his mother for the first time. Making his own decisions, living his own life.

His first choice in schools had been The National Institute of Technology; N.I.T in Washington, D.C. It was the premier school for technology in the country – they only took the best and the brightest. Freddie was pretty sure he could get in, his grades were good, he had all the right extra-curriculars and his experience as tech producer of a popular webshow wouldn't hurt his chances either. But just to be sure he had the best chance possible, he'd applied to a special program the college offered. For one week between Christmas and New Year's a group of 100 students from across the country would converge on N.I.T. for a week of networking with the country's brightest scholars and a preview of college-level engineering classes. If he got in, his acceptance to the next freshman class was a foregone conclusion. He'd put in his application in April, just a week before he and Sam started dating. He hadn't even told her about it, sure that she'd just make fun of him. But now that things between them were so serious, the butterflies in his stomach had less to do with worry over his acceptance and everything to do with how Sam might react.

She knew he wanted to go to N.I.T. She knew how far away it was and she'd never said one word about him not going. But when he thought about being so far away from her, for at least four years, he felt a cold panic creep up his spine. Long distance relationship didn't work statistically, and in any case, he wanted her around him – ever day if possible. But Sam coming to Washington, D.C. was unlikely – she didn't really have the grades for any of the schools there and if he asked her just to tag along he was pretty sure she'd punch him squarely in the throat, or worse.

So very soon he'd be making a decision – whether to chase his dream and leave the only girl he'd ever really loved behind, or to stay in Seattle to be with her. She'd be just as mad if he gave up his dream school to stick around Seattle. It was really a lose-lose situation.

He shook his head against the thought. First things first. If he didn't get into the program he might not even have to worry about leaving Sam. The University of Washington was a great school with a great engineering program. He could easily attend UW and not worry about the certain failure of a long distance relationship. As his Nana Benson would say he was 'borrowing trouble.' He'd worry about it when the time came. And in the meantime he'd enjoy every minute he had to spend with Sam.

He looked over at Sam and realized that he had no idea what she planned to do after graduation. Whenever he and Carly had discussed college, Sam had either taken advantage of the time to take a nap or blown it off with a 'graduation is forever away…assuming I do graduate.' Sometimes she blurted out options just to freak Carly out. His favorite was when she'd said she was considering a career as a circus contortionist. After last night he had no doubt she was fully capable of that, but he wondered what she'd really do.

Sam was smart, though she went out of her way not to let anyone know. She hated expectations, he knew that much. If people knew she was smart they'd start expecting too much and she'd get irritated. Generally he and Carly accepted this but suddenly he was wondering if maybe, as her boyfriend, he should be taking more of an interest in helping her figure out her after grad plans. He didn't want to make her feel bad or make it seem as if he was trying to 'fix' her, but maybe he could figure out a way to do it so that it wasn't overbearing. Maybe he could use some of the Puckett manipulation skills to make her think it was her idea for him to help.

Maybe.

He saw the exit for Seattle ahead of them and sighed. Time to get back to real life. This had been the best weekend of his life and he wasn't ready to end it just yet, but as he pulled onto the off ramp he felt a familiarity settling over him. They were home. It was time for this new version of Sam and Freddie to face the world.

"Sam. Sam? Sam!"

She stretched, twisting her back as she struggled to sit up.

"No need to blow out my eardrums. I'm awake!"

Freddie laughed beside her, patting her legs as she pulled them from his lap and sat straight in the passenger's seat, wiping sleep from her eyes. She'd slept the whole trip, the pain pill combined with her food coma and coming down from the excitement of the weekend had wiped her out. She'd slept the whole trip. Maybe she should have filled Freddie up with pancakes and sex instead of Dramamine to knock him out for the trip to Portland.

"You ready for this?" he said, looking over at her.

"Ready for what?"

"Seeing everybody, getting back to normal life. Getting ready for school to start."

"Do not say that word to me! We still have two weeks before it starts. Until then I'd like to pretend that dreaded academic prison doesn't exist thank you very much."

"Whatever you say, Princess." He looked at his watch. He'd told him mother they'd be home by five. It was about five minutes to five. Right on cue his phone started ringing.

"Your mom?" Sam asked.

He nodded, answering the phone. "Yes mom. We're here already. No, we're in the parking garage. What? Sam? Yeah she's with me." He looked over at Sam and rolled his eyes. "What? Mom we're really tired, she's probably just gonna go to Carly's. No Mom, I will not ask her that. Okay, fine. I'll see you in a few minutes." He shoved his phone into his pocket.

"What was that all about?"

"Huh? Oh, my mom wanted me to have you come over tonight. She wants to talk to you."

"About what?"  
"Heck if I know."

Sam laughed, "Probably wants to look me in the eye when she asks you if we had sex."

"Sam!"

"What?! You think she doesn't want to know if I deflowered her wittle Fweddie?" she reached over and tickled him.

"That's not funny, Sam."

"It is, especially since I am the best liar you know. She'll never get it out of me."

He huffed, pulling the keys from the ignition.

"That is, unless you want me to tell her." She scooted across the seat, throwing her leg over Freddie's and leaning in to whisper in his ear. "I can tell her what you did to me, give her a blow by blow on how I made a man out of you."

"You wouldn't," he said, not entirely sure.

Sam flicked his ear lobe and went back to her seat, "Cool your jets Romeo, I'd rather eat glass then talk about sex with Marissa 'Abstinence is the best defense' Benson." She laughed and reached for the door handle, "Now let's hurry up, I gotta take a waz."

"You're such a delicate flower Sam, really." He laughed as he exited the car, pulling their bags out of the trunk. Sam ran ahead of him, pushing the elevator call button. "Don't suppose you're gonna help me carry these?"

She reached out a hand to him as he caught up to her at the elevator. "Hello, have we met? My name is Sam Puckett…and I don't carry bags."

He entered the elevator and stood beside her, smiling as she did the 'I really gotta pee' dance all the way to the eighth floor. When they reached the hallway between his and Carly's apartments he pulled her into a hug, not wanting to let her go. Burying his face in her hair, he soaked up the moment – sure that whatever conversation he was getting ready to have with his mother wouldn't be nearly as nice as being here with Sam, nowhere close.

She pushed at his chest and smiled up at him.

"Go face the firing squad, while I go talk to the chief inquisitor."

He groaned but let her go, setting her bag outside Carly's door and giving her one last kiss before walking toward his apartment. Pausing outside his door he looked back at her.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" she turned to face him, her hand poised over the Shay's doorknob.

"Thanks…for everything. Best. Birthday. Ever."

"Don't get used to it," she said, knocking on Carly's door.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he laughed, opening the door to his apartment. "See you later?"

"Same bat time, Same bat channel."

"And I'm the geek?" he laughed, walking into his apartment.

* * *

"Hidy-Ho Shay siblings!" Sam called out as she walked into the apartment, tossing her bag to the side.

"Sam!" There was a blur of brown hair and then Sam felt her arm nearly jerked from the socket as Carly rushed from the kitchen across the living room and grabbed Sam, pulling her toward the stairs. "I thought you never get here! Let's go, you gotta tell me everything!"

"Hey Sam!" Spencer called from the couch.

"Not now Spencer!" Carly screamed as she pulled Sam along up the stairs. "Girl time!"

Sam shrugged at Spencer and followed Carly as fast as her short legs would allow.

"Slow down! You're gonna break my arm and then I won't be able to tell you anything!"

Carly let go and Sam entered her bedroom, the door slamming behind her as Carly bounded over to the bed and patted the spot beside her. Her face was flushed and she was already in her favorite Girly Cow pajamas. Beside the bed were three bowls filled to the brim with Sam's favorite snacks: Fat Cakes, bacon flavored Fadoodles and sour cream and onion Spindles.

Sam sat down and stretched out, leaning against Carly's head board with her eyes closed. She said nothing, knowing that her silence was killing Carly. Sure enough, when she peeked at her friend Carly was bouncing impatiently on the bed, looking as if she might explode at any minute. She'd told Freddie it was going to be like this. He was mortified when she told him that she planned to tell Carly they'd had sex. But Carly was her best friend – some secrets you just didn't keep from best friends. He said it would make things weird. She told him to suck it up because she was going to tell Carly. She did, however, agree not to discuss any anatomical specifics. But as prissy as Carly was…Sam doubted she'd want to know about Freddie's manly parts. And manly they were, she thought, a slow smile spreading over her face.

"Well?" Carly shouted, "Are you gonna sit there all night with that dopey grin or are you gonna talk?" she wagged a finger at Sam. "And the correct answer to that question is 'talk!'"

Sam laughed and sat up. "Well, Carlotta, the short story is…" she drew out the pause for dramatic effect, "you can officially consider this V-card…swiped!"

"Oh My God!" Carly screamed and buried her face in the pillow she was holding. Raising up to look at Sam her face was flushed red, her eyes wide. "I can't believe you actually did it! I mean I know you were planning to and then you said you were gonna and you bought all that stuff at build a bra and so then I really figured you would but..."she stopped to catch her breath, "you really did it!"

Sam nodded and then they lasped into silence. She hadn't really thought about what direction the conversation would take after she'd told Carly the deed had been done. She looked over at her best friend who was staring at her biting her lip nervously. This was new for them. Other than wearing a bra, Sam had never done anything before Carly. Carly got kissed first, she got felt up first, she'd even gotten her period first. She'd been the one sitting on the bed asking question after uncomfortable question. It was strange for the shoe to be on the other foot.

What was she supposed to say? How in the world was she supposed to describe what happened last night without dying of embarrassment? She'd done and said things last night that seemed entirely right in the moment but telling other people? God, she felt like an oversexed porn star. She played with her nails as she rocked back and forth on the bed, waiting for Carly to say something – anything. Not knowing what else to do to fill the silence she reached over and stuffed a Fat Cake in her mouth.

"So…" Carly said, playing with a loose thread on her pillow, "was it…fun?"

Sam laughed, spitting pink dough and bits of filling all over the bed. "Fun?"

"Yeah, you know, did you…like it?"

"Okay, Carls…creepiest question ever!" She moved to the side, dodging the pillow Carly threw at her. "What do you want me to say?" Carly looked at her sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders. Sam smiled at her friend. It made sense she supposed. If she were a virgin and her best friend had just had sex she'd want said best friend to tell her what to expect – what it was really like, not the chick flick, fairy tale version. "Okay, well, first of all, all that crap in those movies you force me to watch? Throw it out the window. It's not like that at all."

"It's bad?" Carly looked terrified.

"No! I mean," she sighed; she was doing a terrible job of this. "There were good parts, and some bad parts…" she closed her eyes and smiled, "and some really freaking awesome parts. What do you want to hear first?"

Carly leaned her head to the side and thought. "Give me the good part…and," she rolled her eyes, "the really freaking awesome parts"

"Well, the room was amazing, and, God, I was so nervous! I'm not sure if I took off my clothes or they shook off by themselves." She laughed, "But Freddie was so sweet and, I don't know, gentle I guess."

"Aww!"

"Can it Shay or I'm not saying another word." Carly ran a finger over her mouth, zipping her lips. "Okay, well when we, you know, did it…"

"Did it hurt?"

Sam cast her a warning glance. "Yeah, I mean it hurt at first but then…then it was like, like flying in my skin. I don't think anything in the world has ever felt that good. It was better than the Chinese buffet! Better than…"

"Free ham?"

Sam looked at her solemnly, "Even better than that."

"Whoa."

"True chizz."

"So that was the really awesome part?"

"No, that was the good part. But the best part was after, like right after? Just lying there…just me and Freddie. It just felt…happy, ya know? Like the happiest I'd ever felt because I knew that even if that hadn't happened, he'd have loved me anyway."

Carly's face crinkled and Sam blushed. "If you cry I swear I'm gonna punch you."

"I'm not crying!" Carly said, unconvincingly. "I've just got something in my eye."

Sam drew her knees up to her chin, smiling at the memory of what being in Freddie's arms had felt like. What being with him, closer than anyone else had ever been, had felt like.

Carly wiped her eyes and sat up straighter on the bed. "So, what about…the bad part?"

"Oh, that's easy. The bad part was this morning."

"This morning? What happened?"

"Well, remember how I said it hurt a little last night? Well, it must have been endolphins."

"Endorphins?"

"Yeah, whatever. It must have been those because this morning it felt like a village of dwarves with pick axes had tried to set up shop in my lady parts!"

"Oh my God!" Carly cringed, "Stop! I don't want to hear anymore!"

Sam shrugged, "Well, cupcake, you asked."

"Dwarves?"

"Yep."

"With pick axes?"

"Mmm Hmm."  
"That's awful!"

"Yeah," She grinned wickedly, "But totally worth it."

"So…what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you guys, you know…did it. Doesn't that change things? Doesn't that change like…everything?"

Sam looked at her friend – and wondered the exact same thing.

* * *

"Mom! I'm home!" Freddie called out as he walked into the apartment. He hung his keys on the hook by the door as his mom came down the hall, trying to look nonchalant when he knew she'd probably been looking out the peephole every five minutes since he'd talked to her.

"Freddie!" she ran over to him, grabbing him in a bone crushing hug. Pulling back she kept her hands on his shoulders giving him a once over. "Happy Birthday honey!" He saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "I can't believe you're eighteen, a legal adult."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She might be nuts sometimes – or most of the time, but he loved her.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to sit on the sofa.

"So! Tell me all about your weekend!"

'_Here we go'_ he thought.

"It was great!" he said, offering nothing more. Sam had trained him well – give away as little information as possible.

"Just great?"

"Really great!"

"Really great?" she frowned, "What was so really great about it?"

_'Shoot, I should have just kept it at great'_

"Um, well, GalaxyCon was awesome and Sam got us backstage passes and I met Nug Nug…"

"Wow, that sounds wonderful honey. And what did you do…after the convention?"

"Huh?"

"After the convention Freddie. What did you do afterwards?"

"Oh, well, um.."

_'Stop stuttering Freddie, you're giving yourself away!'_

"We, uh, went to the hotel."  
_'And I spent the rest of the night having sex with my girlfriend in the room I was supposed to be sleeping alone in'_

"Oh, was it a nice hotel?"

"Yeah, it was."

"The rooms were nice?"

"Yeah,"  
"And you…had a good night's sleep?"  
_'Didn't get much sleep, but what I did get was definitely good!'_ he thought, immediately shaking the thought from his head.

"Oh, yeah…I, uh, slept good."

He clucked his tongue, looking everywhere but at his mother's face. The room around them was full of all the questions she was afraid to ask…and the answers he refused to give.

"So…" she said, "You, um, had a good time?"

"Yeah, Mom…I already told you that."

"And Samantha? She had a good time too?"

'_Boy did she ever' _he thought, more than a little smug.

"Yes, mom."

"I see, well, that's…nice."

Freddie rolled his eyes. It was painfully obvious that what his mother wanted to know. It was equally obvious that she was never going to come out and ask, and while a discussion about his newly minted sex life was the last thing he wanted to have with his mother, he knew she'd never stop until they did.

"Mom…is there something you want to ask me?"

She raised her eyebrows, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to look unfazed, "Is there something that I should be asking you?"

"Come on mom…" he said, "Seriously, could you make this anymore awkward? Just spit it out, please – so we can never talk about it again. Like ever."

"You and Samantha, you…" to her credit, the usually invasive Marissa looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. "didn't have separate rooms?"

He lifted his head, forcing himself to look into her eyes. "No Mom…we didn't."

"I see. And I assume there was only one bed in that room."

"Yeah…" he said softly.

"So you…"

He didn't want to lie to his mother, not because he wasn't capable but because while he might be embarrassed to be discussing it with her, he wasn't ashamed of what he'd done. He was eighteen years old, he'd waited longer than almost any guy he knew – well other than Germy whose virginity was, well, understandable. And he loved Sam, she wasn't just some easy girl he'd met in the hall at school and screwed in a broom closet (which was, incidentally, how Gibby described his first time). He'd waited until he'd found someone who really meant something to him. And they had been responsible. He wasn't ashamed of what he'd done, and he wasn't going to let his mom make it into some dirty little secret.

"Yeah, Mom…we did."

He waited for her to say something. Watching as her eyes filled with tears and she drew in a deep breath. He hated the look he saw on her face. Hated that he might have hurt or disappointed her. He wanted her to understand, to see it the way he did. For all of his life, his mother had been there. People called her overprotective – smothering even, but underneath the annoyance she sometimes brought out in him, he knew that she did what she did because she loved him. And he knew that she'd always trusted him to what was right in the end. He didn't want that to change.

"Mom," She kept her head down, shaking it from side to side, "Mom, look at me, please." Marissa raised her head and Freddie fought to find the words to make her understand, to make her trust him. "Yes, Sam and I had sex. But we were responsible, and Sam isn't some girl I just met. I love her, Mom. I thought you'd be proud that I waited for someone that I love."

Marissa sighed and shook her head softly, walking back over to the couch to sit beside him. She looked at him for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she reached out and patted his cheek.

"You really love her?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah, I do."

"And you think she loves you the same way?"

"I know she does."

"And you were…safe?"

"Of course."

She nodded her head. "You know, Freddie. Sam doesn't come from a family like ours. I mean, she's not used to being treated well."

"I know that, Mom."

"Let me finish." He sat back, listening. "If you're going to have this kind of…relationship with her, you need to make sure you're in it for the long haul. She acts tough, but if you hurt her…"

He reached across and grabbed her hand. "Mom, you don't have to worry. I'm not going to hurt her. Ever." Giving her hand a squeeze, he stood up and grabbed his bag, "Now if we're done with the world's most uncomfortable conversation, I'm going to go unpack."

Marissa nodded and watched as her son – her baby boy who was now a man, walked down the hall to his room. Sighing she shook her head, thinking about how sincere he sounded when he said he'd never hurt Sam.

'Oh, Freddiebear,' she said into the silent room, 'One day you'll see – that's not an easy promise to keep.'

Sam sat alone in the Shay's living room, her feet propped on the coffee table, her phone in her hands. Carly had fallen asleep in her room an hour ago and from the loud snores coming from down the hall, Spencer was asleep too. Freddie had texted her a couple of hours ago and said that he and his mother were going out to dinner but that he'd text her when he was back so that she could come over. Looking down she smiled as her phone vibrated with an incoming text.

Frednub: Home…you still coming over?

Sam: Where's your mom?

Frednub: In bed I think

Sam: On my way…open the window.

Scrambling off the sofa she grabbed the Shay's spare key from over the door and headed to Freddie's. Climbing out the window at the end of the hall, she walked across the fire escape to the stairs ended outside of Freddie's open window. She squeezed through and landed on his floor with a thud. The door to Freddie's bathroom opened and he walked out, running a towel over his wet hair. He wore a dark blue t-shirt and thin cotton pajama pants. Even from across the room she could smell him: toothpaste, soap and cologne. Absentmindedly she licked her bottom lip.

"See something you like Puckett?" he said, dropping the towel on his bed as he walked towards her. When he reached her he silenced her answer, bringing his lips to hers. It took her a minute to stop being dizzy and remember that his mother was just down the hall. She pushed at his chest.

"I missed you," he said against her ear.

"You just saw me like four hours ago!" she whispered.

"Doesn't matter…" he said, dragging his lips down her jaw, to the hollow of her neck, "still true."

"Freddie, stop! Your mom's here! And I do not feel like a Marissa Benson sex-ed lecture. I bet she's got manuals and visual aids!"

"Um, yeah…about that. I um, talked to my mom tonight."

"Wait a minute…talked to your mom about what?"

"I told her, you know, what happened."

"You'd better be talking about meeting Nug Nug…or what we had for breakfast, Freddie!"

"Calm down Sam…and lower your voice!"

"You told your mother, your mother, that we had sex?!" she hissed.

"Yes…but I swear…she's cool!"

"Cool? Marissa Benson is cool with you and me making the beat with two backs? There must be pigs flying over a frozen lake of fire."

"I'm telling you, she…"

Before he could finish, there was a soft knocking on the door. Sam cursed and dove toward the side of his bed, facing away from the door, scooting as close as she could get to being underneath it and covering herself with his comforter.

Freddie's door opened and his mother peeked her head in, smiling at him.

"What's up, Mom?" he said, trying to look calm and not accidently look at the place where his girlfriend was attempting to remain hidden. His mom had been okay with the discovery that Sam and Freddie had sex. And during dinner she'd given him a refresher course on what it meant to 'be responsible', but Sam in his room at midnight – he wasn't sure how that would go over. "Did you need something?"

Marissa's eyes scanned the room. "No, I just got myself a glass of water and saw your light on. Is everything okay?"

Freddie was watching the bed from the corner of his eye, "Huh? Oh, yeah! I'm, uh, I'm good!" He made an exaggerated point of stretching and yawning, "Just tired ya know, gonna go to bed I think."

Marissa raised an eyebrow and looked at him intently for a minute. "Well alright. Good night, honey." She began to retreat from the room and Freddie almost breathed a sigh of relief, watching as Sam began to scoot from her hiding place. Then her voice called back into the room from the hallway.

"Good night Samantha!"

Freddie's eyes went wide as Sam poked her head from the side of the bed, both of them looking at the door as his mother's face appeared in the doorway.

"Uh, Good night Marissa," Sam said sheepishly.

Marissa nodded knowingly, and retreated again into the hallway. Her voice carried back into the room.

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yes?"

"If you're going to stay overnight, please make sure your mother knows where you are, and next time you come over? Use the door."

Sam and Freddie sat in shocked silence, listening to his mother chuckling as she walked into her room and shut the door.

They spent the rest of the night lounging on his bed, watching movies and talking about nothing and everything all at once. Eventually they drifted off and when Sam opened her eyes, it was nearly three in the morning. Remembering what Marissa had said, she untangled herself from Freddie's arms and headed for his desk where her phone sat so that she could call her mother. She sat down in the chair and leaned back, cursing as she sent a stack of papers tumbling from the desk. Setting her phone down, she leaned over to pick them up, when one of them with an official looking seal caught her eye. She looked over at the bed, making sure Freddie was asleep. His chest rose and fell as he lay on the bed, arms outstretched.

Unfolding the letter as quietly as she could she stared down at the seal – it was an emblem actually. A bright red crest, outlined in gold with the letters N.I.T. emblazoned across it.

National Institute of Technology. Freddie's dream school.

Feeling strangely guilty she quickly read over the letter.

_'Dear Mr. Benson,_

_We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance…'_

She read the rest of the letter, feeling her stomach sink a bit more with each line. He'd gotten into N.E.R.D. camp after all. This one would take place in Washington, D.C. over Christmas break.

"Sam?"

She jumped, dropping the letter. She'd been so absorbed she hadn't hear Freddie as he woke and now he sat sleepily rubbing at his eyes as he looked at her.

"Oh, hey…"

"What time is it?"

"Really late…or early. Go back to sleep."

He leaned his head to the side as Sam scooped up the letter on the floor and attempted to put it back on the desk.

"What are you…" He caught sight of the N.I.T crest from across the room and wanted to kick himself. The letter had come when while they were away this weekend. When he'd read the words _'offer you acceptance'_ he'd been so happy, until he realized – this made the decision he thought he'd have time to make much more imminent. "Sam," he scooted to the edge of the bed, close to the desk. "Don't be mad. It just came while we were away. I was going to tell you about that tomorrow."

She looked up at him and smiled but he saw something, something off in her eyes. "Mad? Why would I be mad? You got into the school of your nerd dreams." She laughed softly and stood, walking to the bed and sitting down beside him. "I'm…I'm happy for you."

"I don't have to go you know. Not at Christmas, or…at all." He whispered the last part, looking down at his hands.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't you go?"

"N.I.T - it's in Washington, D.C." he looked over at her, "We'd be apart most of the time – for a long time." He waited for her to say something but she continued to stare at her hands, picking at her nails. "Besides," he said, "UW is a great school! Their engineering program is great and I'd be right here in Seattle so we'd still be together and…"

"Freddie, stop," she said, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"But Sam…"

"No, Freddie." Finally she looked at him, "You really want to go to this school right?" he didn't answer, "Right?"

"Yeah…I guess so."

"You guess? You've wanted this since you were like twelve!"

"Eleven," he said.

"Exactly. And, one of the things I love about you – what makes you different from the other wazbags I've dated is you actually _want_ something out of life! You have like, goals, plans for your life. And I'm incredibly proud of you for that. Most of the people I know barely have plans for the weekend!" She turned on the bed, facing him with one knee drawn up to her chin. "I want you to have what you want."

"But, I want _you_, Sam."

She sighed. "I don't know a whole lot about having a healthy relationship or whatever. But I do know that we can't be _all _that each other wants. We have to want something outside of this." She said, waving a finger between them. "I need you to promise me something."

"Anything, Princess."

"I want you to promise me, that we'll never let being together, stop us from chasing our dreams." She looked at him, "Promise me?"

He nodded half-heartedly, certain that, at some point, he'd regret his response. "Yeah, I promise. But understand that whatever I wind up doing, you're part of the decision."

He walked back to the head of his bed and climbed in, patting the spot beside him. Sam crawled across the bed and laid beside him, turning to lay her head on his chest. She tried to even out her breathing and push back the thoughts that had begun to tumble into her head the minute she'd read that letter.

"So…are we good?" Freddie said.

"Yeah, Benson. We're good."

"And this school thing…it doesn't change anything right?"

"Relax, Freddie!" she said.

"I need to hear you say it, Sam."

She looked up and stared into his face, his eyes were troubled. Leaning up she kissed him softly. "Nothing changes."

Freddie kissed the top of her head and settled on the bed, pulling her close to him. As his breath became deep and even she lay awake, unable to shake the thoughts of her earlier conversation with Carly. Despite her best attempts to ignore it, Carly's question returned over and over.

_'Doesn't that change things?'_

Doubt began to drift into her mind – an ominous fog. And in that moment she was entirely sure that no matter the promises they'd just made – this might just change everything.

* * *

A/N2:

So that's it, the last chapter of Summer of Love. I hope you guys have enjoyed it.

The sequel - Until the World Ends, will be posted this evening as part of the iCarly mass posting event.

Stay tuned!

TheWrtrInMe & DwynArthur


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